


Let Me Love You Anyway

by ashilrak



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Minimal warnings, Untagged unless requested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 40,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: A collection of the whamilton ficlets I've posted on tumblr





	1. I Thought There Was Time

It was remarkable how endless war felt while it was happening. Afterwards it felt like a blink of the eye - one moment you were putting on the uniform for the first time, and the next you were riding away from the final battle.

Alexander had plans, and so, so much to do. There was a mental list of tasks to complete before the war was done. The General was a man who had an important life outside of the war. They had found comfort and love in one another, but Alexander would go on to forge his own path as he always had, and the warmth the General provided would no longer be there for him to run to.

It was a possibility that this was the last time they’d ever see each other. Their lives would take them down different paths. 

What Alexander wanted was to go back to the beginning, and relive every moment they had shared and revel in it. The late nights spent with their heads together plotting some strategy, or the stolen moments of hands and lips on skin.

There was too much formality in this moment, one last final briefing in the Commander’s tent before they departed.

Alexander was called to remain behind after his fellow soldiers left, and he was filled with both relief and fear. They had spent their last night together, and though he wished for more, it was easy to cling to that sense of resolution. 

Anything could happen, and there was so much he wanted to do and even more he wanted to say to the man now standing before him. Instead, Alexander held it all down, bit his tongue, and remained silent.

The General moved with purpose until he was standing less than a foot away from Alexander, “This may very well be out last time together, my boy. I pray that it is not.”

He nodded.

“Alexander, I - “ The General was not able to finish his statement for Alex had taken that moment to force one hand into the other man’s hair and lean up until their lips were pressed together, breathe mingling.

“I thought there was time for a lot of things George, and I am holding onto the hope that their still might be. Please don’t make me face reality.”

The Commander pulled away, and softly traced his thumb along Alexander’s lips, “I love you, Alexander. And now we must go.”

General George Washington left Alexander alone in the tent, with his hand raised to his mouth.


	2. I Do Not Believe In Love At First Sight. But God Damn. (Look At You).

George knew better than to be taken in by a pretty face. Behind a pretty face there were lies and deceit, ambition and drive. All too often those who caught is eye had too much they were seeking for themselves that there wasn’t much left in them to give.

That didn’t mean he didn’t look. George would let his eyes wander from entrancing eyes down a lithe frame, and he’d allow him mind to form images of what the revealed skin might reveal - but he’d never act on his daydreams. The young head analyst was a familiar feature, but Tallmadge would never receive more than a nod from him.

But Alexander Hamilton made George regret every single rule he had ever set for himself. The boy was beautiful, but not on first site. Alexander’s beauty was in his mind and spirit - visible in the sparkle in his eyes and the twist of his lips. 

George made a point to meet the higher-level new hires. He would invite them into his office and fill out his mental checklist as the conversation wore on. Most seemed nervous upon arrival, wearing a facade of false confidence. They’d wait until spoken to, and by the end of the meeting, George would catch a glimpse of who they were.

There was nothing false in the way Alexander presented himself, and perhaps that was what ensnared his heart. Alexander was sent into his office with bright eyes and determination emanating from every pore. The boy offered a bright smile, and with his, “Hello, sir, I’m Alexander Hamilton, it’s an honor, sir.” George wanted to hear more.

And he did. It wasn’t immediate. Alexander went to his duties in the finance department, and George worked to find excuses to call him in. As time wore on, the excuses grew thinner as Alexander proved to be beyond competent for his position. 

But Alexander Hamilton was a brilliant man who broke George’s rules, and so he was less suprised than he should have been upon seeing that Alexander had made an appointment. 

Alexander walked in brimming with energy and a to-go cup of coffee in either hand. Alexander aimed a grin in his direction and took a seat. One of the coffees was put on his desk and shoved in his direction, “Hello, sir, thought you could use a pick-me-up.”

George took a sip, noticed it was the exact way he liked it, and nodded, “I appreciate it.”

He watched as Alexander took a sip of his own coffee and said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I scheduled the appointment, sir.”

“I am.”

Alexander took in a deep breath, chest rising with the action. The hand not holding the coffee played with the end of his tie, “Well, sir, I understand that what I’m about to say is extremely unprofessional, but I ask that if you find my words unwanted, you don’t make a spectacle of it.”

He nodded once, growing more curious with every word.

Alex looked up, “Well, sir, you’ve captured my attention, and despite Burr urging me not to bring this up, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve caught yours in the same way.”

George set his coffee down, “Elaborate.”

A flush rose in Alexander’s cheeks, and he wondered if one of the several fantasies that had played through his mind were about to take place. 

Alexander took in another breath, “I’m usually the type of person to take what I want, and well, sir, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

George had never had a skill with words, and that didn’t change even when he needed them most. He remained silent as Alexander waited for some response, and felt a pang in his chest when Alexander’s shoulders fell. 

He might have been a man of few words, but George Washington was a man of actions, and so there was no hesitance in his movements when he got up and stepped around his desk to grab Alexander’s wrist before the boy could get to the door. 

Alexander stopped, but did not look around. 

“It is unprofessional, but I’d have to agree with you. I try net to let these thoughts take over, but I haven’t been able to get you of my head, Alexander. Usually I can push past these things, but I haven’t with you - you’ve taken that ability away, and I mean, look at you. If you’re okay with it, so am I.”


	3. I Don't Know If I Should Kiss You Or Slap You

Alexander Hamilton was an impulsive man, but he was dedicated. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it. It wasn’t always a smart decision, but it always seemed brilliant at the time. 

It started out small. He started out by sending George a picture of him wearing the black, sheer stockings he had gotten for his birthday. He dressed in his usual suit, and walked into the office with a smirk on his face. 

Alexander returned George’s raised brows with a nod and slipped into his office. 

He had projects to work on, and directly after lunch there was a meeting between the heads of the departments and Washington. 

George was a man of habit, and every morning around ten, he’d go across the street to get coffee. Every morning, around 10:22, George would step into Alex’s office with two cups of coffee in hand.

The visit never lasted more than a minute or two, on a normal day. George would set the second coffee on Alex’s desk, say a quick hello, and if he was feeling playful, press a kiss to the top of Alex’s head. 

Today was not a normal day. George stepped into Alex’s office, shut the door behind him, and set both cups of coffee on the desk. Alex looked up just as George leaned over and shut his laptop screen shut, “Alex, I have a question for you.”

Alex lowered his lids, “I probably have an answer.”

“Why are you such a tease?”

Alex smirked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, George. I’ve been in my office all morning.

“You know exactly what I mean,” George leaned in closer.

“I assure you I don’t,” Alex stood up, face only inches away from George’s, “and I have to return to work.”

Alex sat back down and leaned back into his chair and opened his computer. George blinked, grabbed his coffee, and left Alex’s office.

Twenty minutes later, George’s phone lit up with a picture taken in a bathroom mirror of black lace against tan skin.

Ten minutes after that, George was in his office. 

Alex felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up to find George with dark eyes, “I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you. I’m in the middle of the meeting, and I told him I had an emergency to attend to.”

“Well,” Alex’s voice was low, “maybe you should attend to me.”


	4. My Nightmares Are Usually About Losing You

Certain things didn’t leave you.

Alex could present his public face with a sparkle in his eye and an argument ready on the tip of his tongue.

That all faded away after the sun went down and it was him and George alone in their bed. He’d strip down to naught but his skin, and with his closing went his mental walls. He’d relax into George’s arms, and be lulled to sleep by the beat of George’s heart in his ear.

Their nights didn’t always stay peaceful. Sometimes Alex would be shoved away as George would wake and sit up, breathing heavily as his mind cleared away images and memories form long ago. Other times, it’d be Alex waking up to a soothing voice in his ear and tears in his lashes.

Those nights were the hardest. George only ever wanted to help, but Alex could never form the words. He’d fall into George’s arms and squeeze as tight as he could.

The mornings after would be quiet, George shooting him concerned glances as the coffee was brewing.

This particular morning though, George moved to stand behind Alex and wrapped strong arms around his torso, “are you alright?”

Alex said nothing.

“If you don’t mind, what do you dream of? You have different ones, but these are the worse, where you wake up holding onto something rather instead of shoving me away.”

Alex took in a slow breath, let it out, and said, “My nightmares are usually about losing you.”


	5. Could You Be Any Louder

George believed in the idea of keeping his work and romantic life separate. Alexander might work for him, but they were consenting adults who were capable of being responsible.

But even when he repeated that to himself over and over again, there’d be days where Alex’s eyes would become just the slighest bit heating and the tilt of his head would aim to tease. George had never considered himself a good man, despite what others might say, and Alex took pleasure in pushing his limits.

Those were the times George would pull Alex into an empty room and run his hands up and down Alex’s thighs, taking in the breathy sighs leaving Alex’s lips. 

It never took long for the situation to progress, and Alex never was very good at keeping his mouth shut. George tried his best to remind Alex to keep quiet, but it was all too simple to get lost in the moment.

The sound of a fist pounding on the door was jarring enough for him to look away from Alex. It was Jefferson’s voice that called out, “Could you be any louder, oh my god, some of us are trying to work here.”

Alex met his gaze, smirked, and opened his mouth to let out a deep, throaty moan in response.


	6. Your Smile Is Not As Bright As It Used To Be

The war was hard on everyone. 

It was easy to ignore others’ struggles when caught up in you own, and even though some turned to their fellow struggles to distract themselves, no one thought to turn to the General. 

To be Commander was to be alone.

The General was a stoic man, strong and brave, supporting the weight of the war on his broad shoulders. He kept the bulk of his worries to himself, showing only the smallest share to those he trusted.

Lafayette was the one who spent the most time in the General’s confidence, locked in whatever space was serving as the General’s quarters, talking later into the night. Lafayette bore whatever the General shared with him with a grace no one else could.

But even Lafayette couldn’t stay silent when his worries became too strong. 

Alexander supposed it was circumstance more than anything that brought Lafayette to his side one night. The air was silent and brisk, and Alexander knew by Lafayette’s face that there were words within that begged to be let free.

Alexander pressed further into Lafayette’s side, and waited.

It didn’t take long, and soon Lafayette was voicing his worries in Alexander’s ear. Their native tongue provided an illusion of security, and once Lafayette started, he did not stop. There were worries that belonged to him alone, but as the sky grew darker, the subjects switched until Alexander knew how worried Lafayette was for the General.

He did not act at first; Alexander had no desire to implicate Lafayette. He waited a fortnight, and then made his move.

There was no suspicion in the General’s eyes when Alexander remained behind, writing late into the night as the candles burned lower and lower. The General made no comment when Alexander set his quill down and approached the desk.

The General did nothing but watch as Alexander stood in from of him, silent and waiting for acknowledgement.

Moments passed, and Alexander started to speak, “Your Excellency, if you don’t mind my saying so, I am concerned for you.”

The General did not move, “and if I do mind?”

“I will continue to speak and accept the reprimand and any punishment you deem fit after I am finished.”

“I see.” The General nodded, “Continue.

“The war is bearing down on you, sir. Your smile, as rare as it is, is not as bright as it used to be, and I fear for you, sir. I know we are but your aides and secretaries, but you need not suffer alone. You have Lafayette, but should you ever need it, we are all here,” Alexander took in a deep breath and dropped his gaze, “to serve you in any way you need, you Excellency.”

“I know. Is that all?”

Alexander did not look up, “Yes, your Excellency.”

“You are dismissed, Hamilton.”

Alexander pushed down the hurt that threatened to rise in his chest, nodded his head, and turned on his heel. 

Before he could turn the handle of the door, the General’s voice called out, “Hamilton, what made you come to me with this? Is there concern among the men?”

Alexander shook his head, “No, sir. These were my personal observations.”

He heard a chair scrape across the floor, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. The General’s voice was much closer when he said, “you said you would serve me in any way.”

Alexander nodded, but did not turn around, “That is correct, sir.”

The General took another step closer, and Alexander could feel the heat of the larger man behind him, “and if I asked you to stay?”

He took in a quick breath, “I am at your command, your Excellency.”

“Look at me, Alexander.”

Alexander turned around to find the General wearing the expression that signaled an internal conflict of some sort. The General licked his lips and took one step closer. Alexander pushed down the thoughts that arose at the movement, and waited.

The General had always been a man of actions rather than words, and so rather than verbalizing any of the thoughts racing through his mind, he leaned down an placed a kiss on Alexander’s lips.

He pulled away and said, “and if I asked you to serve me in this manner?”

“I am at your command, your Excellency.”


	7. Abusive, Leaving, Love, Cat, Jacket

The cat, more a kitten really, fit in the palm of his hand. It’s eyes were wide, and the moment a small meow left its lips, George’s heart melted. Alex had never said he wanted a cat, but he hadn’t ever said he didn’t want one either.

George had always considered himself more of a dog person, but he wasn’t cold-hearted, and he wasn’t going to leave the little guy out alone on the street like that.

He grabbed his beanie from his jacket pocket, and placed the kitten inside and held it close to his chest on the way home.

It took longer than normal to open the door, juggling the kitten and getting his key out of his bag, and Alex was standing in the kitchen when he walked in. 

George turned around to put his bag on the designated hook, and Alex stepped forward to press against his back and wrap arms around his torso, “Hello, love. How was your day?”

He turned around in Alex’s arms and pressed a kiss to waiting lips, “my day was fine, yours?”

Alex shrugged, “same old, same old. Angelica is leaving for London soon, so she’s trying to get us all together for one last hoorah, so I just got off the phone with her about that.”

George was still holding the hat to his chest, and when Alex stepped away, the cat peeked its head out and found itself eye-level with his husband. 

Alex blinked, “uh, what’s that?”

“It’s a cat.”

“Why do you have a cat?”

George petted the cat’s head, “I found it.”

“You found a cat so you brought it home?” Alex crossed his arms, “what if he has rabies or something?”

George offered the hat to Alex, “he looks perfectly healthy, if a bit skinny.” The cat meowed, “I mean, we can get rid of him if you want, I just couldn’t leave him there though.”

Alex offered his hand to the kitten, who sniffed it, “well, I mean, he’s kinda cute. And it’s certainly better here than on the street or with some sort of abusive jackass. People are cruel man, this kitten doesn’t deserve that.” The cat pressed it’s head into Alex’s hand, and George saw his husband melt.

Alex smiled, “Fine, we can keep it.”


	8. Happy Whamilton Daddy Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -feminization-

Alexander was more than aware of how certain, small details affected Washington. He had always had a taste for the finer things, longed after that which he could not have for so long of his life, and George had a similar preference. When Alexander wore finer fabrics that fit just right, George’s eyes and hands would linger. 

The looks and touches were always appreciative, and they always left Alex wanting more. 

They were professionals. They knew how to keep their work and private relationships separate, but sometimes they slipped. George would get stressed, and he’d help George relax the best way he knew how.

Those moments were kept to a minimum, but even George with all of the good intentions was able to resists Alexander when he put an effort into the seduction.

It was a simple thing; a thing piece of dark brown leather that fit around the base of his throat. If Alex wore a tie, it wouldn’t be noticed unless someone was looking for it. 

George was always looking.

He was called into George’s office, and when Alex saw the heat in George’s eyes, he knew he wasn’t there for business. He stared at the chair at the other side of George’s desk for a moment before shaking his head and going to kneel at George’s side.

A firm hand went to the back of his neck, massaging the tense muscles, “babygirl, I saw you were wearing a little something extra today.”

Alex’s eyes fluttered shut, “I thought you’d like it, Daddy.”

“Oh, I do,” George leaned forward, squeezed tighter, “perhaps too much.”

He smiled and fluttered his lashes, “and what are you going to do about it, Daddy?”

“You’re about to find out.”


	9. Might I Kiss You

Alexander had always craved touch - would seek it out, chase after it, lean into it. The General was the type of man to lay a comforting hand on a young man’s shoulder when delivering news or having a private conversation. 

Alexander was not blind to the rumors and glances thrown his way whenever he left the General’s tent - glances thrown his way and whispers of him being Washington’s bastard, or even his whore. Alexander was a prideful man, and he resisted the dark parts of his heart that whispered about how having a man as resplendent as the General ask him to act as bed warmer wouldn’t be so terrible.

He didn’t let himself lean into the General’s touch; fought every instinct that yelled at him to accept the warmth Washington attempted to offer. Alexander wasn’t an idiot, and he knew the General didn’t extend such courtesy to everyone - he knew their situation and relationship was unique.

It was for that reason that he didn’t let it progress.

The General was a stubborn man, and one who had the ability to make Alexander hear, listen, and process the words said. 

He was silent when the General stood from behind the desk, and Alexander made no movement when Washington moved to stand less than a foot away. He remained at attention as the General’s warm hand fell on his shoulder.

“Hamilton, I’ve had several men come to me out of worry for you. They say you do not sleep at night - the last to bed and the first to rise.”

Alexander felt something bristle inside of him, “I am simply doing my duty, your Excellency.”

A hand fell onto his other shoulder, and he had to fight the urge to drop his gaze as Washington continued to speak, “I’m worried for you. The war gets to all of us, and you stopping yourself from getting what little comfort we can find is helping no one.”

“I am the only one trusted with some of your correspondence, sir, as you well know. The work needs to be done, and there is no one else to do it.”

The hands pressed down harder, “if I were to give you an order to step back from your work when your body demands it, would you listen?”

Agreement was on the tip of his tongue, but Alexander knew himself well, and he shook his head, “the work comes first.”

“Wrong,” one of the Commander’s hands went below his chin, “a letter or two can bear to wait another day, but you, Alexander, are much more important.”

A shiver went down his spine at the sound of his given name on the General’s lips, “I do not know what you mean, your Excellency.”

Washington seemed to come to some sort of decision, “I am going to ask you something, and I expect you to be upfront with me. Do not care for what I might say, and know that it will stay between us, no matter the outcome. It will never be spoken of again if that is what you wish.”

Alexander blinked, “of course, sir. Whatever you wish.”

“Might I kiss you?”

All thoughts left his mind, and he felt his eyes widen. He bit at his lip and said nothing, as words failed him for the first time in many years.

Washington’s hand dropped, “forgive me, these times get to the best of us, which we both know I am far from. I ask that you remove this incident from your mind. I would offer you a reassignment, but you know as well as I do that it’s not viable.”

Alexander’s hand moved to grip the General’s jacket, clutching the fabric tight in his fist, “Sir,” he took a step, closing the distance to mere inches, “you did not allow me the chance to answer.”

The General’s eyes were wide, “No, I suppose I did not.”

He went on his toes, and titled his head up, “yes, you might kiss me.”


	10. 'Cause I Say Baby, You Gotta Stop Worrying

George had known that Alexander Hamilton was far from the pinnacle of health for many years.

Too many times he had watched as Alexander worked through night after night without a break for anything more than coffee or the bathroom to finish projects with deadlines that were months away. Alexander was the first to arrive and the last to leave, and it had been like that for as long as George had known the man.

In the many years they worked together, the only time Alexander took a break was when one of the Hamilton children had taken ill and needed to stay home.

Alexander had never been healthy, but it had only gotten worse since the divorce.

George couldn’t blame Eliza for doing it - he couldn’t imagine Alexander’s work schedule lent itself to a healthy relationship - but there was a part of him that was angry because of the state Alexander had fallen into as a result.

Eliza was a brilliant and caring woman, and she had always suited Alexander in the best ways. George had known Alexander before and after Eliza, and Eliza had been a benefit. He still remembered the day that Alexander burst into his office, beaming with joy, to tell him that Eliza had said yes.

And now that was all gone because Alexander didn’t say no.

The weeks passed, and George could see it getting to Alexander. The leather couch in the break room wasn’t comfortable to sleep on, but George couldn’t quite bring himself to offer his own, for fear of it coming across as pitying. Alexander’s mood got worse and the always present under-eye circles got darker.

George took in a deep breath and knocked on the door to Alexander’s office, closing it behind him after receiving a quiet, “come in.”

Alexander didn’t look away from the computer screen, and George took the opportunity to take the other man in. Dark, greasy hair over sallow skin and tired eyes.

“Hamilton, you need to take a break.”

Alexander shook his head, “I’m almost done.”

“Alexander, I’m worried about you.”

“Nope,” Alexander said, “sorry babe, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

George blinked, “there’s definitely something to worry about.”

Alexander looked up, “what do you mean?”

He raised a brow, “in addition to everything else that is causing concern, the fact that you just called me babe stands out as something out of the ordinary.”

“Right,” Alexander blushed, “I totally did not mean that.”

“Right.”

Alexander tongue stuck out to wet his lips, “So.”

“You’re going to eat a meal, take a shower, and get a full night’s rest, and the rest can be figured out from there.”

“No.”

George walked forward and placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, “Yes, c’mon. I’m taking my lunch, and I’m going to drive you to my apartment where you’re going to do everything I just said since no one else is going to make you.”

Alexander tensed under his hand and started to sputter, “but, work, the report-”

“No,” George shook his head, “that can wait. You’re taking a half-day.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are,” George said, taking his hand off of Alexander’s shoulder and stepping away, “now, are you coming or not?”

Alexander stood up and closed his laptop, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” George opened the door, “don’t forget your jacket, it’s chilly outside.”

“There’s really no need for you to be doing this.”

George sighed, “right.”


	11. Campaign Trail

It had been sudden. One moment they were walking through the lobby, Alex at George’s side, aides walking a step behind relaying the schedule for the day, and the next they were all sitting in a small room with members of the secret service.

Alex’s mind was moving fast, taking in the agent’s whispers as he pressed close into George’s side. The room was almost silent, the aides unwilling to speak, from fear or uncertainty Alex didn’t know. He entwined his fingers with George’s and squeezed, “what do you think is happening?”

George squeezed back, “I’m sure it’s fine, love. The secret service will take care of it - this is what they’re here for.”

“I know,” Alex sighed. He turned to the closest agent, “you, what’s going on?”

The agent’s face stayed blank, “a threat has been brought to our attention, and we’re staying here until it’s been taken care of.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, George’s hand squeezed his own tight and George said, “what kind of threat?”

“To your life, sir.” The agent’s voice was calm, “we believe it to be a more radical group who is planning it. It’s certainly not a professional attempt, which is why we don’t think it’ll take very long.”

George sighed, “I knew the campaign was going too smoothly. How much longer?”

The agent nodded once, a stiff motion, “less than an hour, though we won’t know until it happens.”

“Very well. Thank you, Tallmadge.”

“No problem, sir.”

Alex turned to George, eyebrows drawn together, “you don’t seem surprised.”

“We always knew the flyover states were going to be a problem, love,” George brought their entwined hands up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, “but this will blow over.”

“Are you sure?”

“We have to be sure, besides, it always does.”

He laid his head on George’s shoulder, “fine.”


	12. My ex is over there and we had a pretty bad breakup could you just pretend to be my boyfriend for like 30 seconds?

George had heard many strange requests in his years, but this was close to the top of the list, if not number one.

He liked to spend his Saturday mornings in a nearby coffee shop, going through his emails and and looking over reports and projects that were sent his way during the week. He’d sip his cappuccino, eat his muffin, and make his calls. It was a quiet routine, and one that suited him well. The cafe allowed dogs, and Forester was lying at his feet, staring out the window. 

A young man approached him, dark circles under his eyes and hair pulled back into a slick ponytail, radiating a sort of nervous energy, and asked, “alright, so I totally expect you to say no, but I have a really weird favor to ask you, it’ll take less than a minute, I promise.”

George took a sip of his cappuccino, raised a brow, and asked, “what could I do for you in less than a minute?”

The young man bit at his lip, straightened his shoulders, and said, “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

George almost spit out his coffee, but collected himself in time. He set down the mug, “what?”

“My ex is in the bathroom” the man’s eyes flitting from side-to-side, “we had a pretty bad breakup. He hasn’t seen me yet, but I’m kinda stuck here until my ride gets here.”

George nodded, “right. What does pretending to be your boyfriend entail?”

“Uh, just letting me sit by you? Maybe holding my hand if Thomas comes over and starts acting weird?”

He was silent for a moment, “fine, take a seat.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll buy you coffee or something.” The man took the seat, grabbed a napkin, and started to rip it into tiny pieces, “I’m Alex, by the way. That’s probably good for you to know.”

“George.”

They sat in silence, George going through his emails and Alex tearing into the napkin. It didn’t last very long, and a shadow covered their table.

He looked up to find a tall, thin man wearing a purple sweater and a mean smile. George blinked, “uh, hello.”

The man smiled wide, turned to Alex, and drawled, “darlin’, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you anytime soon.”

George bristled at the man ignoring him, but watched as Alex tensed, eyes narrowing, “Hello, Thomas. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to get coffee anymore.”

Thomas leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table, “oh, you’re allowed to do whatever you want, I just didn’t think you would.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

George could see that Thomas was about to say something meant to cut deep, so he cleared his throat, “uh, who are you?”

“Me?” Thomas looked over a shoulder at him, “who are you? Is Alex here trying to find himself a sugar daddy? I always knew he was after my money. I recognize your scarf, that cost you a pretty penny.”

He felt his brows draw in nearer, “actually, my boyfriend was treating me to coffee since we don’t have a lot of time to spend together since we’re both very busy with your careers.”

“I see,” Thomas sneered, “well, if that’s the case, I’ll get going.” Thomas turned to Alex, “if you find yourself out on the street again, don’t come crawling back to me.”

George saw the color leave Alex’s face, and they both watched as Thomas sauntered out the door. He turned to Alex, “he did not seem pleasant.”

“You have no idea,” Alex shuddered, “Thanks for that, by the way. It ended up needing to be less date-y than I imagined, but you didn’t need to put up with that.”

“It’s fine.”

Alex went to get up, “well, I should get going. Thanks, again.”

George grabbed Alex’s wrist, “Actually, would you be interested in sharing a cup of coffee with me?”

“What do you mean?” Alex’s eyes narrowed.

He smiled, “well, I’m old and appreciate younger attractive men, I would love it if you decided to let me enjoy your company some more.”

“Well,” Alex relaxed, “if that’s the case, I’m paying.”


	13. Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?

Alexander knew that he went above and beyond what was expected of him. He was more then Washington’s personal assistant. He acted as advisor, counselor, and it looked like his time had come to act as masseuse. 

There was no mistaking the tension in Washington’s shoulders, and it was only their close relationship that allowed him to even place one hand on Washington. “Sir, excuse me if this is too forward, but you seem tense.”

Washington barked a laugh. “If you’re calling me tense, I must be beyond saving. Book me a massage, this weekend, preferably.”

“Sir,” Alexander exerted more pressure, “your weekend if already booked. I’m afraid you don’t have time for a full massage.”

Washington waved the hand holding his phone. “Either make the time, find one that will come here for the appointment, or I’ll have to go without.”

“Lafayette would hardly let some masseuse I found on the internet into your office, sir.”

“Gilbert is a worrier, it doesn’t matter.” Washington cringed when he turned his head, and lifted his hand to rub at his neck. “You know, now that you’ve mentioned it, a massage sounds wonderful right now.”

Alexander dropped his hand with a sigh. “I don’t think even the most desperate masseuse could get here this very instant, sir.”

Washington dropped his head forward and started to kneed at the muscles in his neck. “Surely someone in this building can do something, or knows someone. You’ve managed to fix meetings that have been triple booked in different countries, you can fit in some sort of appointment, can’t you?”

His fingers twitched as an idea came to mind. He took in a deep breath, and started to speak before he could think better of it, “Do you…well..I mean…I could give you a massage? If you want, sir?”

The sound of relief that Washington made at the offer did nothing to help his thoughts stop going down a road Alexander tried not to go down while in the presence of the other man. “That would be fantastic, Hamilton.”

He took a step forward, took in a deep breath, and laid his hands on Washington’s broad shoulders. The entire muscle seemed to be knotted together, and Alexander wasted no time before digging his palms in, forcing a deep groan out of Washington.

Alexander stopped, before biting his lip and continuing. The sounds filling the room were doing nothing to aid the crush he had on his boss, but in the name of duty, he kept on.


	14. Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.

Alexander had to be strong, had forced himself to be since he a boy. At the time he had only been doing what was necessary to get by, and dare to succeed. Now, it was more habit, than anything. The strength still helped him, especially as the nights lengthened, the temperatures dropped, and their supplies dwindled.

The men around him were similar. Farm boys who needed to keep working in all conditions to keep food on the table, and the sons of wealthy families who needed to maintain the family’s honor and integrity - all different, but showing itself in the clenching of jaws and fists as they bore through the pain.

They all bore their weight, all felt that the future was relying on them alone. It pushed some to work harder, to keep going despite the frostbite in their limbs. Others, it dragged down. Made them bitter and hopeless.

The General couldn’t afford to become bitter and hopeless. He had to stay strong and keep faith .Commander was a singular position, without equals and people who could understand. 

Washington didn’t let his worries show - couldn’t let his worries show - but even the strongest of men had to relax and share the load at some point.

Alexander stepped into the General’s room, closing the door behind him. “You asked to see me, sir.”

“I did.” Washington was sitting in a chair by the fire, staring into the flames. “I find myself in need of some of your words, Hamilton.”

He walked forward and moved to stand behind Washington, resting his arms on the General’s shoulder so that his hands were flat to Washington’s chest. A large hand grabbed at his own. “These are the times that try men’s souls, George, as you very well know. We’ll get through it. It will be difficult, it will be hell, it is hell, but we’ll make it.”

“How do you know?”

Alexander let out a sigh. “Because whenever it seems to have been impossible, I’ve managed to make it through. I have faith that same principle will hold true even know.”

The hand around his own squeezed tight. “Of course.”

“Besides,” he pressed his lips to the top of Washington’s hair, “you’re not alone. Even if this all goes to shit, I’ll be with you, here, always, as long as you’ll have me.”

Washington said nothing, and together they remained in comfortable silence, watching the dancing flames.


	15. So, who is it that you’re fucking? Is he/she hotter than me? Younger? What is it?

Alexander knew better than to expect happiness; had never expected a loving relationship to work out for him. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Despite that, he had never expected it from George, of all people. Perfect, kind, and reasonable George - the last man one would expect to go behind their back. Everything added up, the late nights spent at the office, whispered phone calls late into the night, the odd looks Lafayette shot his way whenever he met up with George for lunch. 

He felt like a spurned housewife, waiting in the living room for George to come home, foot tapping a steady rhythm as an outlet for the anxious energy that continued to build the longer George took to get home.

Soon he heard the key turning in the lock, and his body tensed as millions of scenarios ran through his mind. Alexander wanted nothing more than for it to all be a hoax, but he knew better than that. It wasn’t that surprising, when he thought about it. George was, well, George - the type of man young college girls dreamed of finding while getting coffee and claiming for themself. Handsome, tall, rich, gentle, and all around perfect. 

Everything that Alexander didn’t measure up to.

The door opened, and George must have seen something on his face, because George dropped his bag without a thought and wrapped Alexander in a hug. He didn’t fight the urge to wrap his hands tight around George for one last time, nor could he prevent the sob that ripped out of his chest.

George pulled back. “Alex, sweetheart, are you okay?”

He shook his head, and walked away, unable to look at George. “No, I’m not okay. How could I be okay?”

“What are you talking about?” George’s voice was soothing and gentle, as it always was when he needed it to be. Alexander wanted to turn around and jump into George’s arms, but he couldn’t.

“You’re cheating on me, George.” If Alexander had turned around, he would have seen George’s mouth open in shock, brows furrowed in confusion. “So, who is it that you’re fucking? Is he hotter than me? Younger? What is it?”

George said nothing, and another sob left him. The tears were falling from his eyes, and he could feel the snot building up in his nose. Of course Alexander couldn’t even appear graceful and in-charge in a moment where it mattered. He was going to look the mess he felt on the inside.

Minutes passed, and unable to take it anymore, Alexander turned around. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but it wasn’t George looking heartbroken. 

George took a step forward. He asked, voice a whisper, “how could you think that? I would never.”

“How do you explain it then?” Alex waved a hand, vision blurry with the sting of the still-present tears, “The long nights, secret phone calls, Lafayette hasn’t been able to meet my eye for weeks. I know I’m nothing compared to you, George. I’ve seen your past boyfriends. They’re all fucking gorgeous, and for some reason I believed you when you told me I was what you wanted. I’m nothing, George, nothing. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks, how do you explain that?”

George turned around and walked toward the door. 

Alexander fell to the ground. George would try to explain it away, would say he was just getting worried about nothing - say that the stress of work was getting to him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see George crouching in front of him. “Oh, you know I’m terrible at handling these situation. I promise you I’m not cheating on you, as if I could ever do such a thing.” George’s face became serious, “in fact, we’re going to have a talk about a lot of that later. But, for now,” George reached behind him, “I had plans for this, you know. That’s what I’ve been doing. I was organizing a big night, I wanted to make it an event, just for you, for us.”

Alexander blinked at the velvet box in George’s hand. “you mean?”

George smiled. “Yes. Alexander Hamilton, will you marry me?


	16. I Thought You Were Dead

It was a stone-faced Laurens who had delivered the news. 

George had been grateful he had already been seated, for fear that his knees might have given out.

The next few days had passed in a blur, a body going through a routine with no set goal in mind. He woke and ate and wrote and signed and ordered just as he had done every other day, but his spirit and soul was gone. George could see it in how the other aids carried themselves - they too felt Alexander’s loss.

They couldn’t bring themselves to acknowledge it in any formal manner. They all knew, they all received the harsh reminder that was Alexander’s empty chair and the absence of another quill writing on parchment. 

It couldn’t be postponed much longer. They were at war, and they were men of action. They gathered, and Lafayette brought out some secret store of whiskey to pass around. 

They raised their drinks. “To Hamilton.”

George squeezed his eyes tight as he brought the liquor to his mouth, knowing that this would be a final admission.

Just as he liquid started to burn its way down his throat, he heard gasps around him. He opened his eyes, and blinked. His Alexander was standing before him, soaking to the bone, looking as if he’d been dug up from the bottom of a ditch.

He braced himself on the table, arm shaking. He felt something rise in his throat, and he swallowed it down. The men swarmed Hamilton, and he remained standing, barely, his weight upon the wood. 

Alexander saw - Alexander had learned to watch him long ago. he heard, as if from a distance, Alexander say, “lads, I’ll be right back, I have some news for his Excellency. And as happy as I am to be back, I’d be much happier if I could somehow get a change of clothes and to my cot.”

Groans echoed, but soon he was alone with his Alexander.

“I thought you were dead. Do you know what that did to me.”

He was still looking down, and he could see Alexander’s ruined boots next to his own. “But I’m here, I’m back. Please look at me, George.”

Alexander’s eyes were wide, imploring some sort of reaction. He traced his finger down the side of Alexander’s face, the slightest brush of skin on skin, “I thought I’d lost you.”

His hand was covered with Alexander’s smaller one. “But you didn’t. I’m here, and I plan to be here, with you, as long as you allow me to.” 

Alexander turned to press a kiss to the palm of his hand, and something within him broke. His other hand left the table and found its way into Alexander’s hair, pulling the boy in close, crashing their mouths together.

He pulled back, letting out a shaky breath, “you have no idea.”


	17. Better be quiet or they’ll hear you.

The edge of the wooden table was sharp against his hips and Washington’s hand was hot against the skin of his back, sliding down to part his cheeks and breath hot air over his hole. Alex moaned, biting into the meat of his arm to try to muffle the sound.

Washington chuckled. “Better be quiet or they’ll hear you.”

He moaned again when Washington’s tongue licked a stripe against his entrance, pushing into it. Washington pulled away, “I thought I said be quiet.” 

Alex whined, “I don’t know how you possibly, ah, expect me to be quiet.”

The hands left his skin, and behind him he could hear Washington stand up. “Well, if that’s the case,” Washington leaned over his back, breeches rough against his skin, and tapped the corner of his mouth with a finger, “we’ll just have to make sure no one can hear you. There are soldiers just on the other side of that canvas, you know.”

A wad of fabric was shoved into his mouth. “There, now we don’t have to worry about you chewing your arm arm off. Does this work?”

Alex took in a breath through his nose, and nodded.

Washington moved back to kneel behind him. “Perfect.”


	18. I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.

Sleeping through a full night was not something that Alexander Hamilton did. He had long ago mastered the ability of wiggling out of a person’s arms at night without waking them to go work on some project or other. 

He’d wake up, chest heaving, filled with the urge to do something - that lying there was doing nothing to help him and his future. He’d hear the memory of a storm raging in his ears and be overcome with a restlessness - the need to get out. It was always a sudden thing.

The first time he woke up with the sun warming his face and a strong arm slung over his hip Alex had thought he was still sleeping, caught up in a rare dream.

George was a light sleeper, and not once had the man managed to stay asleep when Alex snuck out of bed in the middle of the night. George would press a sleepy kiss to wherever could be reached and let him go. Alex had noticed that he’d been waking up later and later, getting more and more sleep.

But this was something he’d stopped hoping for a very long time ago.

He blinked open his eyes, feeling calm and relaxed, and growing more and more confused. He turned around to find George smiling at him, eyes squinting in the morning light. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

George yawned. “I’d guess around ten.” Alex tensed. George’s hand went to the side of his face. “What’s the matter, babe?”

He pushed away from George, rolling off the bed, feet getting caught in the sheets. “I need to go.”

“Alex,” George sat up, “what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

He shook his head, grabbing his phone and jeans up from where they had been discarded the night before. “I don’t know. It’s not bad, I just need to think. I’ll call you later. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” He paused mid-stride, and after a split-second of consideration, turned on his heel and pressed a kiss to George’s forehead, “I’ll call you, I promise. I just need to figure something out.”

George nodded and watched him leave. 

One hour later, after he had gotten home, he received a short text, ‘did you get wherever you needed to be okay?’

A small smile crossed his face, and he typed out a quick, ‘yeah’, and put his phone back on the table. 

George cared. George was safe. George was kind. George let him leave with no explanation or protest and then asked if he was okay. George put up with some things that had made other people run away screaming at the top of their lungs. Something within him had decided that George was what he needed to get the full night’s sleep he had been chasing after for years.

The panic came back.

He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands, and breathed in deep. 

In and out. In and out. In and out.

He sat up straight and reached for his phone. Another message from George, a simple heart emoji.

Alex pressed call.

George answered after the third ring, “Alex! Is everything okay?”

He nodded once and took in a deep breath. 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”


	19. I’ll do anything you want me to do to you, but you have to say it out loud.

General George Washington was a man who commanded attention the moment he stepped into a room. He had an aura of silent authority, and on his broad shoulders laid the hope of every single person who considered themselves a patriot.

The Commander was not a man of many words, preferring action to any verbal expression of thought. When letters and speeches were needed, he turned to his staff. They were a brilliant group of young men who had learned how to best assist their General when he needed them to.

Alexander Hamilton was the best at this. He could see the invisible tension in Washington’s shoulders, the minute gestures around the man’s eyes that indicated Washington needed a break; a chance to breathe. 

He would stay long after the other aides left, and he would approach the General. “Sir, I believe you have need of me.”

Alexander Hamilton wore the most peculiar of expressions while saying this - a glint in his eyes and a lift to the corner of his mouth. Washington would look up to see that familiar look, and his shoulders would drop. “Yes, Hamilton, I do believe that I do.”

“Perfect.” Hamilton straightened, shifting his posture to appear to take up more space. “Now, George, darling, kneel for me.”

George Washington removed his outer layers, and moved to stand in front of his chief of staff. He let out a careful breath, and dropped to the ground, never once breaking eye-contact with Hamilton.

“What are the rules?” 

The General could feel himself relaxing as the familiar phrases left his lips, “if anything makes me feel any sort of panic or urgency I am to let you know immediately, I am to address you as sir, and I am to let myself focus on this and nothing else.”

“Wonderful, darling. Now, you’ve forgotten one thing.”

George looked at the ground. “Yes. sir.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do, but you have to say it out loud. Is that clear, darling?”

George nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Perfect. Now, tell me what you want, darling.”


	20. If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.

George knew it wasn’t his boy’s fault. He had awoken Alexander early that morning with every intention of focusing all of his attention on making the boy fall apart under him. He had roused Alexander with barely-there kisses up and down his body until Alexander blinked at him, eyes still foggy with sleep. “George, my love, whatever are you doing? We can’t be due to rise for another hour or two - it’s still dark outside.”

He had shushed the boy and soothed his hands up and down Alexander’s sides. 

Over half and hour had been spent with his head between his boy’s thighs, licking and biting the sensitive skin as Alexander whimpered and moaned above him, making the sweetest of sounds. 

He had wanted to draw it out, give Alexander what he deserved.

Instead they had been interrupted by the sound of a flurry of activity below. 

It had ended up being nothing - a report that had been passed along ear to ear before it had been opened and read. Rumors spread and panic rose among the Generals’ staff, and it was only he and Alexander who could put an end to it.

Alexander was angry at him. Angry over the lack of sleep and over having to walk around opened and aching with nothing being done about it.

When George saw that the other aides had left the tent, he leaned back in his chair and waited. 

It wasn’t very long until Alexander finished whatever he had been working on and stood in front of him, eyes darkening with lust and frustration.

George kept silent and Alexander took a step closer. “With all due respect, sir, I believe you owe me an explanation. Much more than an explanation, even.”

He recognized the look Alexander was aiming his way - the one his boy wore whenever he wasn’t acting quick enough to reduce his Hamilton to pieces. “I do owe you much more than an explanation, but if you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed, and as tempting as that sounds, we both know that’s far from the best of ideas.” 

Alexander took another step forward, and reached over the desk for his hand. George laced their fingers together, and his other hand went to underneath Alexander’s chin. He rested his thumb on the boy’s lower lips, watched Alexander’s eyes flutter shut. “But you make me want to act on my terrible ideas.”


	21. They’re all watching the movie. They’re not even going to notice.

It wasn’t often that they had a chance for everyone to get together and do something as simple as watch a movie. They were all spread out across the couches and floor, laughing, talking, and eating popcorn while Lord of the Rings played in the background. 

Alex was sitting in George’s lap, laughing as he watched John refuse to admit defeat to Hercules’ superior arm-wrestling abilities. 

Everyone settled down, of course, cuddled together in the spots they had claimed. George pulled a blanket over them, and Alex leaned back into George’s chest. “We should do this more often.”

George’s hands went under the blanket and settled on his hips, bringing him in closer. “Yes, we should. It’s nice.”

The movie played on, an jokes and insults were thrown across the room. Alex’s laughter was cut off when the hand on his hip started to fiddle with the button and zipper on his jeans. He leaned his head back onto George’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” 

George smiled. “Shhh. They’re all watching the move. They’re not even going to notice.”

“Yes, they will.” Alex looked around. Everyone’s eyes were on the screen, closed, or looking at someone else. “Even if they don’t see something, they’ll hear me.” He bit back a gasp when the hand palmed his hardening cock.

“I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then.”

Alex closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

His hips pushed into the touch. “You’re right. Ah, you know, if we get caught, I’m, uh, blaming you.”

George breathed out a laugh. “If you keep quiet, they won’t.”

“Uhhhnnn.” His cock was hard in George’s hand. “You’re making that difficult.”

“Good.”


	22. Fluffy Wham-Lams

The General had expressed interest in Laurens before - the occasional comment about the looks he had seemed aimed Alexander’s way by the other man and how handsome a pair they’d make. The comments were followed by hands squeezing Alexander’s hips and teeth pressing into sensitive skin, but Alexander could recognize the look in George’s eyes.

Washington was intrigued by the idea of his aides tangled together.

Had Alexander not already been aware of the affections Laurens held for him, he might have been more worried over how simple it was for him to lure his friend into the General’s tent long after the others had gone to sleep. Alexander had reached out his hand when Laurens had moved to leave, light enough to just brush against Laurens’ finger. “Stay, just for a little bit.”

John had nodded and sat closer to him. Laurens had nothing to work on, letters and reports finished for the day. Alexander could feel the weight of Laurens’ looks. He’d brush their hands, knock their knees together, lick his lips, and look over to see Laurens, cheeks flushed. It was a simple seduction, and one that could have been passed over.

He finished the last loop on the General’s signature and looked over. “I have finished my work for today. Thank you for accompanying me.”

Laurens leaned forward. “Why did you asked me to stay, Alexander?”

“Well,” he smirked. “I find your company pleasant, but, I will admit,” he dropped his gaze to Laurens’ lips, “my reasons were perhaps more selfish and less moral.”

Alexander didn’t need to say another word before Laurens’ lips were against his own, soft and unsure. He licked into Laurens’ mouth, guiding and controlling the kiss. He pulled away and smiled, brought his finger up to push a piece of hair behind Laurens’ ear. 

Behind Laurens, George Washington entered the tent.

He leaned in for another kiss, John more enthusiastic and more confident, quiet sounds of pleasure masking the General’s footsteps. 

Alexander felt a strong hand land on the back of his neck. “Just as beautiful as I had imagined.”

John startled, pulling away. Alexander chuckled, and grabbed John’s hand. “No, John, all is well.”

John’s eyes were wide. “You mean?”

“Yes.” George’s other hand went to John’s shoulder. “You will be joining us for the evening, if amenable.”

John nodded. “Very amenable, sir.”

“In these circumstances, I do believe it best if you call me George.”


	23. Could you be happy here with me?

George’s hand was warm on his back, resting just above the lace edging of his garter belt, fingers dipping down to dip below the fabric.

They were taking a weekend getaway at some resort in Florida, the windows wide open, curtains fluttering in the breeze. Alex breathed in the ocean air and relaxed further into the white bedding, 

George pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Alex, thank you, for coming here with me.”

Alex turned his head and smiled at George. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Not a problem, not a problem.” George sighed. They fell back into silence.

George took in an audible breath. “Do you think we could be happy together? Could you be happy here with me?”

He looked at George, saying nothing. George’s eyes were open, face blank, waiting. He licked his lower lip. “I don’t think I’d be unhappy.”

“But you don’t think you’d be happy either.”

Alex shrugged as best as he could. “I think I’d get bored, being taken care of like this all the time. I need to do something for myself.”

George smiled. “I know.” Another kiss was pressed to his shoulder. “I know.”


	24. What’s that in your hand?

Alex heard familiar footsteps and felt two arms wrap around his waist. “What’s that in your hand?” 

He closed his fist around it and tried to shove it in his pocket, but George’s hand grabbed his wrist. He felt warmth rise to his cheeks. “It’s, ah, nothing. Nothing, dear. Nothing at all.” 

George smiled against his neck. “Alex, what is it?”

“Why are you so curious?” George’s hand was still around his wrist and Alex sighed, leaning back into George’s embrace. “It’s nothing.”

“I just want to know, if it’s something serious I’ll let you put it away.”

Alex smiled to himself, and opened his hand. “It’s silly, really.”

“Are those cufflinks?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they have emeralds.”

“Why? What’s the occasion?”

His cheeks warmed further. “Um, there wasn’t one? I just, you got me that watch. I saw these, and you always say that green makes you think of me, so I though–”

“I got you the watch because I wanted to get you the watch, I wasn’t expecting anything in return, love.” A kiss was pressed to the side of his neck.

“I know, but I wanted to get you something. I like the watch. It makes me think of you. I thought these would be the same.”

George grabbed the box holding the cufflinks. “I love them, they’re perfect.”


	25. Are you scared? Don’t be. I‘ll protect you from today onwards.

The camp was silent.The snow crunched underneath his boots. The men were lined up around the camp, forced to their knees with their hands tied behind their back, eyes directed at the ground. George could hear slow breaths and sobs that weren’t quite muffled. He kept his head held high and continued to walk forward, looking ahead at the men with swords pressed to their throat, his soldiers awaiting the order.

Only five men were left - the British General’s closest confidants.

Four of them were looking at the ground, starting to shake as George approached. The one in the middle was looking right at him, a fierce glint in his eye. George frowned. “Who are you, boy?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, and after a single second’s hesitation, spat in his face.

The camp froze.

Shouts of outrage and offense broke out behind him, and the man with his sword to the boy’s throat adjusted his grip. 

George raised his hand. “Stop. Let him live. Send him to my tent with my evening meal.”

The soldier’s eyes widened. “But, your Excellency, you can’t allow such disrespect.”

“You are not to tell me what I can and cannot allow. I am the Commander here, is that understood?”

The soldier’s eyes dropped. “Of course, your Excellency.”

“Very good.” He looked around, took in the scene. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Kill the rest. Bathe the boy before you bring him to me.”

Hours passed.

His wine was poured and the boy was brought in. George set his drink down and addressed the guards who had escorted the boy, “leave us.”

The guards left. He chewed a bite of pork in his mouth. The boy glared at him.

George wiped his mouth with his hand and stood up and walked around the desk until there were only inches of space between him and the boy. George smiled and the boy paled. 

“What’s you name?”

“Why should I tell you?”

The boy’s voice was sharp, cutting, not portraying his fear. 

George took a small step closer. “Because if you don’t tell me I’ll feed you to my hounds.”

“Hamilton.” The boy swallowed. “I am Alexander Hamilton.”

“You’re very beautiful, Alexander.”

The boy’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open. “You can’t, I mean, you’re–”

“Shhhh.” George lifted his hand to Alexander’s cheek. “You have a spirit to match your looks. I’m going to make you mine, my beautiful Alexander.”

Alexander shook his head. “No, no, I won’t-”

He raised his other hand to place a finger over Alexander’s lips. “You won’t have to do anything.”

Alexander’s eyes were shining. “You can’t.”

“I can.” He ran his thumb over Alexander’s cheek bone. “Are you scared? Don’t be. I‘ll protect you from today onwards. No one else will touch you.”

Alexander whimpered.

“Shhh, my beautiful boy. There’s no need to be scared.”

A tear fell from Alexander’s eye.


	26. How long have you been doing this to yourself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -mentions of self harm-

It was dark outside, the rain hitting hard against the window. 

George unlocked the door, hanging his wet coat on its hook on the wall, setting his umbrella on the ground. He ran a hand over his face and loosened his tie, heading to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

The sound of the storm drowned out most of the sound, giving the illusion of silence. The sound of a harsh sob echoed through the small apartment. George set the glass down and walked to the bathroom.

Alex was wrapped in a blanket, curled up in the bathtub, face bent forward and body shaking. George knelt on the floor, moving slowly. “Alex, love, I’m here, I’m here.”

“It’s my fault, you need to leave, go away.” Alex’s voice was muffled, hands covering his face. “It’s my fault.”

He hesitated for a moment before setting a hand on Alex’s shoulder. Alex sobbed, inhaled a shaky breath, and leaned forward into him, wrapping arms tight around his neck. “Shhhh, Alex, love, what’s wrong?”

Alex shook his head. “It’s my fault. They’re all dead, George. I’m alone, I wasn’t good enough.”

George reached up to grab Alex’s hand, entwining their fingers. “No it’s not, love. You did everything just right. You’re perfect. I love you so much.” He felt something warm on his hand and looked down to find small rivulets of blood running down from Alex’s fingernails, picked at until they barely resembled fingers. “Alex, love, how long have you been doing this to yourself?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, it’s just, I, earlier today–”

“Shhhhh,” He ran his hand down Alex’s back, “I’m here now, you’re safe, you’re perfect.”

“Today was the day my uncle died,” a harsh inhale, “it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, I barely knew him, but it just means so much.”

“I know, I know,” George squeezed his arm around Alex. “It’s all okay now, I have you. Shh, I love you so much, so much.”

George shut his eyes, and Alex’s sobs quieted, raspy breaths filling the cold air.


	27. I can’t stand watching you destroy yourself like this.

George took in a deep breath to steady himself and pushed the door open. Alexander didn’t look up. He closed the door behind him and took in the scene. Alexander was hunched over his desk, eyebrows scrunched together as he furiously wrote across the page by the light of a few candles.

He took another step forward, slow and purposeful, the floorboard creaking under him. Alexander’s hand twitched, surprised, quill splashing ink across the table. Alexander looked up, eyes wide and manic. “Sir, what are you doing here?”

George took another step forward, leaning his weight onto his cane. “I know what you’re writing, Hamilton. Or, at the very least, I can guess. I know you don’t like acknowledging it, but I have grown to know you rather well over the years.” 

“What does that have to do with anything, sir? I don’t see why you went out of your way to come visit me when you know I’m working on something.”

He sighed. “Alexander.” Hamilton blinked at the informal address, gone so long without hearing it from him. “Stop.”

Alexander bristled, a familiar pride and offense straightening the man’s shoulders. “Why? I have to, you don’t understand.”

“I think I do.” George dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t stand watching you destroy yourself like this, Alexander. I won’t have it. I can’t.”

“Why not? What gives you any right? This has nothing to do with you, sir.”

He pointed at the empty chair. “May I sit?”

Alexander nodded.

“I can’t let you do this because you don’t understand what is going to happen because of it. One thing you always wanted, the one thing you have for certain, is a family. You have a beautiful wife, Alexander, and five beautiful children.”

“Soon to be six.”

George snorted. “Soon to be six.”

“What’s your point, sir?”

He settled back into the chair, fingers drumming on the wood of the arm. “By doing this, by doing what I think you’re going to do, you’re going to lose that. Sure, they’ll still be there physically, but you’ll lose them in the way that matters.”

Alexander’s mouth settled into a firm line. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, Alexander, I do.” George swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and looked to the side. “Your children won’t abandon you, and your wife isn’t in a position to leave you, but you will lose their respect. You can’t get that back, Alexander. And more than that, this will do terrible damage to your relationship with your wife. She’ll be shamed, Alexander. I know you love her, but now only will she have to deal with the pain of how you’ve betrayed her, which all in all is not something unusual and a pain most wives know, but it’s unlikely this will remain secret. People are going to know, and that’s an entirely different sort of pain.”

Alexander’s hands balled into fists. “What do you know of this? Why are you coming here to tell me these things? This had nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me, Alexander.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes. “Those days are long behind us.”

“But they’ve left their mark.” George shifted his weight to his other side and crossed his legs. “Now, what we had was very, very different. Even had I longed for something else, you made sure there was a level of formality throughout the entire thing, which I understood.”

“You were my General, a wealthy Virginian planter, and I was some nobody who had somehow become a part of your staff. There was nothing safe or comfortable about that arrangement.”

Something sharp drove through his chest. “From the beginning, it was an arrangement, and perhaps I was taking advantage of you - the others certainly would have had less qualms about creating a scandal, would have survived it maybe. But, toward the end, I do think we found a genuine comfort in each other, Alexander. I don’t want to hear your feelings on the matter. I’m old, and wish to remember those days fondly.”

“What’s your point? What are you getting at? What does this have to do with anything? You’re wasting my time!”

He took in another breath. “Because even despite the fact that what we had wasn’t a genuine relationship of any means, despite the fact that it could never have ended any other way, there was still something in my that burned at seeing you marry, Alexander.”

Alexander remained silent.

“And that was after it had ended, when we both knew it wasn’t permanent. I knew there was no other way, and it still hurt. Your wife, your wife, who sacrificed much to be with you, who has given you children, who has promised you a lifetime. You’re much more to her than you were to me. This might very well kill her, Alexander. If you love her, if you really love her, don’t do this.”

Alexander bowed his head. “I need you to leave.”

“Of course. I pray you take what I said into consideration.”

George stood and went to the door, stopping for a moment with his hand on the door frame. Some conversations always brought up old memories, and there were hundreds of words biting on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them down and walked forward.

Before he could shut the door, a faint whisper reached his ears. “I loved you, you know.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, closed the door, and left.


	28. I gave you the most heartfelt love letter, but you gave it back to me with spelling and punctuation corrections?!

Words had never come easily to George. The emotions would build and he’d long for a way to share just what he was feeling with some form of eloquence, but anytime he tried he’d meet wall after wall. He’d force the words and find them empty, lacking the depth he wished to portray.

Alexander had control over language like no one else George had ever met. It was intimidating, putting the ink on the page, but it was as if the action of writing would bring them closer together.

He had left the letter for Alexander, not wanting to be there when his words were read.

Days had passed, and he hadn’t seen a slip or sign of his boy. 

It was in the dark of the night, when the rest of the men had gone, that he felt familiar hands rest on his shoulders, a pointy chin on the top of his head. George froze and leaned back. “Hello, Alexander. Your absence has been noticed.”

“I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

Alexander placed a small stack of papers on the table serving as his desk in front of them. George grabbed the top paper and scanned over it, an odd fuzzy sensation building in between his ears as he read over the words. “This is the letter I wrote you, you, you’ve changed it.”

“Mmhmm.” Alex pressed a kiss to his hair. “It was riddled with all sorts of errors.”

George closed his eyes, and pushed the pain and disappointment - in himself for thinking his words would ever be good enough for his genius of a boy - and set the paper back down. “It wasn’t meant to be a grammar exercise.”

“No.” Alex’s hand drifted down his chest. “It wasn’t. You wrote me a love letter.”

He sighed. “I suppose I did.”

“That was very dangerous of you, George.”

He opened his eyes as his mind’s eye flooded with images of all the different things that could have gone wrong had the letter been found. It had been a very stupid, dangerous thing to do indeed. 

“I feel I should reward you for taking such a risk. You did do it for me, after all.” Alex’s voice was lower pitched, a whisper.

“And how are you going to reward me?”

Alex chuckled and moved to press a kiss to the exposed skin behind his ear. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”


	29. You went through my stuff and found the ring I was going to use to propose and how dare you go through my personal stuff that’s so rude and invasive but more importantly will you marry me?

“He’s hiding something. He’s probably cheating on me. Oh no. Betsey, what if he’s cheating on me? George wouldn’t cheat on me, would he? I mean, not to say anything for myself exactly, but it’s George - he wouldn’t do that. But it can happen to anyone I guess, I mean, he hasn’t look at me in a week. Every time I try to do anything he just skitters away. Something’s wrong.” 

Alex walked into the bedroom he shared with George and stood in front of George’s dresser, staring it down. The top was clear except for the box George kept his watches in. He put his phone on speaker and set it down. Eliza’s voice filled the room. “Alex, George isn’t cheating on you.”

He kneeled down and opened the bottom drawer. “But you don’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know that, it’s George. And let’s say he was, trust me when I say you’d near damn well have an army rise up to defend your pathetic ass.”

“But it’s George.” Alex riffled through the sweatpants and old t-shirts, looking for something - anything - out of the ordinary. “Everyone loves him.”

Eliza sighed. “You’re not wrong, but people don’t love him enough to forgive him breaking your heart. Even Laf would rise up like an angry cat defending its babies.” 

“Ugh.” He slammed the drawer shut. “It’s going to bother me until I know.”

“Alex, are you snooping? Oh god, please stop whatever you’re doing.”

He opened the next drawer up, looking between the neatly folded undershirts. “How else am I supposed to know though? He’d hide it, wouldn’t he? I have to look where he wouldn’t think I’d look.”

“Oh dear lord, you’re serious. You could, oh, I don’t know, ask him.”

Alex snorted. “Oh, yes, ‘Hey George, you haven’t looked me in the eye for like a week, so I gotta know, who are you cheating on me with?’ That’d go over well.”

“George can’t lie to save his life.”

He slammed the drawer shut and opened the next one. “That’s not true.” He pushed the fabric around, looking for underwear he didn’t recognize or some hint of lace, frustration and relief both building him when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. “There’s nothing here, what the fuck?”

Eliza’s sigh was loud, on purpose no doubt. “Alex, that’s because there’s nothing to be found, like I’ve been saying this entire time. I don’t know what else you expected. Do you want him to be cheating on you?”

“Well, no.” He stood up and opened the top drawer with a huff. “It’s just, there’s gotta be something, right?”

“Just because you’re a terrible human being you can’t not ruin a relationship doesn’t mean everyone is.”

“That’s fair.” His stuck his hand in the mess that was George’s sock drawer and rifled around. “Ha! I found something!” He grabbed the tiny box shoved in the corner. “Oh.”

“What did you find?”

He opened the box to find a simple golden band, a small diamond inset into it. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god!” Eliza’s voice was louder and higher pitched. “That’s it! He must be nervous! That’s why he’s been acting weird, Alex, he’s been waiting to propose!”

Behind him Alex heard a familiar chuckle and voice say, “she’s right.”

“Ahrg.” he dropped the box and turned around, hand to his chest. “You started me.”

George walked forward and wrapped Alex in a hug. “I can’t believe you were going through my drawers. Is this a normal thing?”

He shook his head against George’s chest. “No.” 

“Good.” George pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now, I could give talk to you about how it is not appropriate to go through my things as it’s an invasion of privacy, but for now, I have a much more important question.”

“Hmmm?”

The arms disappeared from around him and George dropped onto one knee, grabbing the ring from where Alex had dropped it. “Will you marry me?”

The smile stretching across his face made his cheeks ache. “Of course.”

The ring was a perfect fit.

Eliza’s voice came from the dresser. “I’m hanging up now. Congatulations! Go have engaged people sex! Have fun! Use protection!”

Alex looked down at George. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

George stood up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. “It’s fine, love.” George closed the space between them. “How about we do as Eliza says?”

“As if I’d want to do anything else.”


	30. Who did that to you?

Alex didn’t make a habit of staying out late into the morning. He looked forward to falling asleep in George’s arms, and it just wasn’t the same when he fell into bed hoping his head would land on the pillow.

But, sometimes John was convincing. John had called him with a smile in his tone and pleases serving as punctuation. “C’mon man, please, we haven’t gone out in ages. Please man, Alex, just it’ll be great. A guys night. I know you have that thing with George but I feel like we haven’t done this in years. Please.”

He had given in, and with a promise to George to be safe, he had found himself dragged from bar to bar by John, Hercules, and Lafayette. 

By the end of the night, his shirt was gone, he was covered in glitter, and he was struggling to walk straight. He knocked on the door to their apartment, and fell into George’s waiting arms when it opened.

He took laid his hair on George’s chest and breathed in his scent. “You, you know, you know I love you. You’re so great. And hot.” He poked George’s chest. “You’re really sexy. And your dick is my favorite, but you, you knew that. I think.”

George chuckled. “I love you too. Now let’s get some water in you.”

George guided them to the kitchen and picked him up to set him on the counter. Alex smiled. “You’re strong. That’s hot.”

“Thank you.” George handed him the water. “You’re covered in glitter and lipstick. Who did that to you?” George’s eyes narrowed.

Alex laughed and set the water to the side. He put his hands on George’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

He smiled. “Yes you are,” he sing-songed, “you want to know who kissed me.”

“And if I do?” George raised a brow.

“You’re jealous.” Alex pressed a kiss to George’s nose. “That’s hot.”

George shook his head and laughed. “Time to go to bed.”

He wiggled his brows. “Bed? Yes. Take me to bed, George.”


	31. I Want To Have A Baby

Alex took in a deep breath and walked up to George. “I”m pregnant.”

“What?” George looked up, startled. “Can you repeat that? Did I hear you right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I started feeling off a couple of days ago - it was Eliza who suggested it. You know I never would have thought of it.”

George reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Alright.” George nodded and pressed another kiss to his hand. “Alright. What do you want to do?”

Alex moved to sit in George’s lap. “What do you want?”

“No, no.” George shook his head. “This isn’t about what I want. This is about you, it’s your body, love.”

He looked up to meet George’s eyes, held his gaze. “It’s not just you or me, George. This is both of us, long term.”

“Okay.” George took in a deep breath. “I’d love to start a family with you. You’d make a great father, and I’d love to raise a kid with you.”

He smiled wide, could his eyes starting to fill with tears. “I want to have a baby with you. I really do. I want to raise a kid with you, and watch them grow up, and throw them birthday parties, I really, really do.”

George pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“We’re going to have a baby.”


	32. You’ll die and I can’t watch the person I love die.

“Why won’t you let me go?” 

George sighed and stared down at the desk. “I can’t.”

Alexander took a step forward, anger burning in his chest. “But why not? For the first time, I’m not asking for a command! I’m just asking to fight! To be of an actual use in this war!”

“Be careful how you speak to me, Hamilton.” George’s eyes were intense. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He squeezed his hands tight into fists, could feel his nails cutting into the meat of his palm. “What do you mean I don’t know what I’m talking about? I’ve been with you this entire time! I know exactly what commands will be given to those men, let me go with them!”

“No, Alexander.” The General stood, shoulders straight. “This is my final word.”

“But why?” He pushed forward, the edge of the desk brushing against his thigh. “There are already men going. We’re in a waiting period, there is no purpose for keeping me here away from the action!”

The General took in a shuddering breath. “It’s a death trap, Alexander. The only way any of those men will survive is by sheer luck.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander’s voice was a whisper.

George caught his gaze and reached over the desk to grab at his hand, “I mean that if you go you’ll die.”

“I am more than willing to die.” The words were a sort of prayer he told himself every night, and there was a sort of finality in hearing himself speak them aloud.

“No, never say that again,” George’s voice was firm. “If I send you, you’ll die.” George brought Alexander’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “You’ll die and I can’t watch the person I love die.”

Alexander gasped. “You…love me?”

“So much.” George nodded, and pressed another kiss to his hand.

He shook his head. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Alexander pulled his hand back. “You can’t love me. You can’t. You are the Commander of the Continental Army. You cannot afford to love me, your Excellency. You can’t. I can fill my heart and soul up with my love for you, it will push me to serve you better. I am your aide-de-camp, I work for and with you. It’s better for you that my mind is filled you your image and your voice.”

“Alexander-”

“No.” He turned away. “You can’t love me. You have to take care of this whole army, and if you’re unwilling to make the right choice out of some misplaced affection, I’m going to have to make it for you.”

A sound of footsteps and moving fabric warned Alexander of the touch on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

He took in a deep breath. “I’m going to fight, your Excellency. They’re leaving in an hour, this gives me just enough time to prepare. I’ll see you in about a week’s time, if I see you again, sir.”

“No, Alexander, you can’t do this, I forbid it.”

Alexander shook his head. “Yes, because you love me, which is something we simply cannot have. Good bye, your Excellency.”


	33. Jesus, you’re acting like you don’t even want to touch me!

Alex knew more than most how life was an ebb and flow. Things were always changing, but there was some things Alex had thought himself able to rely on. George was the closest thing to a constant in his life, and he hadn’t realized how much their casual touches meant to him until they were gone.

He got home a little late to find George sitting on the sofa reading something on his kindle. Alex shrugged off his coat and moved to sit down at George’s side, his head resting on George’s shoulder. “Hey.”

George shifted away from him, further into the couch cushions. “Hello.”

Alex stood up. “I’m going to start dinner. I haven’t cooked in a while. Is there anything you have a taste for?” George was probably just engrossed in whatever he was reading, was all it was. It didn’t matter that this had become a pattern.

“No.” George didn’t look up at him.

He sighed and pulled out the ingredients for an easy marinara. 

Dinner was quiet, both sipping their wine and eating their pasta, the sound of the forks against the dishes filling the room. Alex set down his empty glass, wishing he had thought to put on some jazz or something to soothe the awkwardness.

George emptied his plate and returned to the couch.

It had always been easy for Alex to work himself up. The rhythmic motions of scrubbing the dishes clean and the burn of the hot water on his skin made the anger in his chest build until his eyes were prickling with tears. 

Alex set the dishes out to draw and forced himself to calm down and dabbed at his eyes, He took in a deep breath and walked into the living room. Chances were that this wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to happen.

George was on his kindle again. He took the ponytail out of his hair and shook it out, knowing the best way to go about this was to fall into old habits. There’d always been a spark between them, after all - a passion that would lead to many of their arguments ending in bed, or over a desk, or in a closet, or anywhere they could find to calm their boiling blood.

He took the kindle from George’s hands and placed it on the side-table, and moved to straddle George’s lap, arms going around George’s shoulders. “Hey.”

George was frowning. “I was reading that.”

There’d been a part of Alex that had expected the awkwardness to fall away, for George’s hands to fall to his thighs and for familiar lips to mark their way along his jaw. Instead, George’s hands didn’t move to touch him. Alex closed his eyes and took in a breath. “George, I know you were reading that, but we need to talk.”

There was no comfort to be found in George’s expression. “About what?”

“Something’s wrong.” He pulled his arms back and leaned away, looking George straight on. “You’ve barely said a word to me in the past week or two.”

“Just because we haven’t spent hours talking everyday doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.” 

Alex sighed. “Fine, maybe we’ve just both been tired. But I miss you.”

“Hmmmm. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

He nodded. “Okay, well, neither have I.” Alex wrapped his arms back around George’s shoulders and moved closer, leaning his head down to connect their lips - seeking the contact he’d been missing for what felt like ages. 

George turned his head to the side.

The corners of Alex’s eyes burned as the tears returned. “Jesus, you’re acting like you don’t even want to touch me!” There was nothing he could do to disguise the hurt in his voice.

George finally looked at him, eyes narrowed and burning with anger. “Of course I don’t! You cheated on me! God knows how many times! You probably still are!”

Shock poured over Alex like ice. “What are you talking about? I haven’t even looked at anyone since we’ve gotten together? How could you possibly think I’m cheating on you?”

“You’ve cheated on everyone you’ve been with before, apparently. What makes me so different?”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “George, my last relationship was five years before I met you. I made mistakes, okay. Everyone makes mistakes, mine were just a lot. I made a lot of mistakes, but I was a different person. I was a broken person, okay? I thought I could find myself in other people. And you know what? It never worked. It just ended up breaking others, which is the last thing I wanted.”

George snorted. “So you admit you’ve cheated before. What’s the phrase, once a cheater always a cheater?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I’ve grown a lot since then. I found you, George. I would never do that to you. What even brought this on?”

George turned to look to the side. “They brought on a new girl in accounting, and I happened to run into her while leaving a meeting with the department head.”

Alex felt the confusion grow.

“I struck up a conversation after I accidentally knocked into her, and you texted me during. I was holding my phone and I guess she happened to see your name.”

“And?”

“The new girl in accounting’s name is Maria Reynolds.”

Alex closed his eyes and dipped his head down. “Ah, that’s a name I never wanted to hear again.”

“She insisted she take me out for coffee. I was confused, so I agreed. You never lied to me, I knew you weren’t a good partner in the past. No one ever wants to admit to cheating, but I had read in-between the lines. You’re still friends with Eliza, but I know that the only way that could have ended was if something terrible happened, and we both know it wasn’t her.”

He nodded.

“Maria told me all about how charming you were to her, and basically her entire side of the situation. She had to transfer schools, you know.”

He nodded again.

“And I tried not to let it get to me, I really did. After all, I knew you aren’t perfect, none of us are. But, Alex.”

“What?” What happened?”

George sighed. “You are many things, but subtle is not one of them.”

He looked up, more confused than ever. “What are you talking about?”

“Working late, leaving early, no more lunch breaks. That time was obviously being put toward something.”

Alex understood. “George.” He reached up to grab George’s cheek and brought their foreheads together. “I’m working on a project with Aaron Burr, who you know to be happily married to his wife Theodosia, with whom he is raising a kid. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s the type to track receipts and keep a planner, I’m sure he can account for every hour I haven’t been with you.”

George shook his head. “For this, you might be right. Maybe you’re just working on a project with Aaron Burr. But what about the future, Alex? I can’t have this nagging at the back of my mind all the time. I can’t do this anymore. Anytime you try to kiss me my mind is filled with thoughts about you doing the same to someone else when I’m not there. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you, are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, that’s certainly a juvenile way to put it.”


	34. I am not a prize to be won.

Alex wasn’t sure how he ended up there, but in front of him were three men - wealthy, handsome, successful men - waiting for his final word.

The jewels were heavy around his neck, his clothing was tailored close enough to restrict his breath. Alex ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth. “Before I make my decision, I have a final question.”

The three men nodded their heads and fell to their knees. “Of course, whatever you need.”

Alex looked between all three of their faces, taking in the strong cheekbones and the curl of the lips of the different men. “Why do you want to marry me?”

Jefferson’s eyes widened, but Washington and Burr remained stoic. Alex smirked. “What do you know about me? Why are you here? Why do you want to marry me?”

Burr spoke first, to his surprise. “Philip Schuyler was most kind to invite us here, along with several other men from across the colonies. He has deemed us to be worthy. You are exquisite, Alexander, and you are said to be as brilliant as you are beautiful. It’d be an honor to call you my husband.”

He nodded, and folded his hands together. “I am not a prize to be won. What do you know about me?”

Burr froze for a moment before nodding and saying, “you are gifted with the written and spoken word, passionate, beautiful. You are everything a man could hope for in a spouse. I’d be blessed to call you my own.”

There was a part of him that wished to be swayed by Burr’s words - flattering, and not false. Burr wanted a wife, and Alexander was a convenient option.

“Jefferson, what is your answer?”

Jefferson grinned. “I know you’ve made a hobby of venturing into politics, writing up pamphlet after pamphlet and essay after essay. I wouldn’t doubt that you’re responsible for most of the ideas and rumors circulating among the government.”

“You’re not wrong.” Alex nodded. “What would you do about that, if you were to be chosen as my husband?”

Jefferson blinked, “I imagine I’d have you work with me on my own projects and assist me in achieving my goals. You’d accompany me to events, and we’d present a united front. I’d involve you in my role as Secretary of State more than one might expect as a wife.”

“Very well.” Alex turned to Washington. “And you?”

All eyes turned to Washington, who said, “I am fortunate enough to consider Philip a close friend, and to have known you during the war. You would not be well-suited to a wifely role. Despite the circumstances, you are still a man. I remember the work you’ve done for me, and I’ve read your written works since.”

“Yes.” Alex raised a brow. “And what would you have me do if you were chosen as my husband?”

“I would imagine a relationship similar to the one we’ve had before, and, should you wish it, I’d like to appoint you to Treasury Secretary.”

Alexander let the grin spread across his face. “Very well.”

He stood up, straightened his coat, and walked in front of the men. “All three of you were well chosen, but I have made my decision.” He looked down at Washington. “Your Excellency, I’d be honored to call you my husband.”


	35. Voyeurism

Something Alexander had learned soon after he started to spend his nights in the General’s bed was that George liked to watch - preferred to sit back and watch Alexander spread himself open until he was begging for George’s cock,

Those were the nights where they had time - generous winter quarters allowing them a bed and a fire, warmth and the dark of the night to hide their sins. 

Winter was a miserable time, despite the small comforts. The General was antsy, struggling to do something when any and every action was impossible. Alexander had long ago learned to notice when eyes followed his movements, examining the fit of his uniform with an intent that extended beyond that of friends or even brothers. 

It was a risk, but one night, when he and John were working late into the night, Alexander leaned into John’s side. George was due to call for him, and Alexander had an idea for the best way to work off the General’s building tension.

He covered John’s hand with his own and left it there, felt John stiffen beside him. Alexander turned to look at John, licked his lips, and said, “my dear Laurens, I’ve been feeling ever so lonely.”

John didn’t move away, but stayed still, unnatural. Alexander set aside the letter he had been working on and rested his other hand on John’s thigh. “Laurens.”

John’s eyes fluttered shut. “Alexander.”

He leaned in closer, “Will you kiss me, my dear Laurens?”

“Please.” 

John’s lips brushed against his, willing but unsure. The feeling of wrongness burned in Alexander’s chest, and he moved to straddle John’s lap. He rested his arms on John’s shoulders. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

It was a lie, but it made Laurens push further into his touch.

Alexander had expected difficulty in arranging Laurens in the way he had imagined - John lying on the ground with Alexander above. The type of positioning that would put him on display, just the way the General liked.

His hands were tangled in John’s hair, and John’s hands were at his hips - resting, not squeezing to leave bruises that way the General had so many times before. Alexander rolled his hips, and swallowed John’s responding moan. 

He sat up and John’s hands followed his to remove the layers of fabric from his body. The fire behind them was burning bright, and George had always said he loved the glint of firelight on Alexander’s skin. His hair was pulled from its queue, and he John’s hands wandered up his sides.

“You’re beautiful.”

Alexander hid his smirk in John’s neck and pressed kisses to the skin there.

John’s hips shifted against his own, and Alexander dragged his hand down John’s chest until he wrapped his hand around John’s cock. The sound that left John’s mouth at his touch almost made Alexander wish it was genuine. 

Behind him, he heard the muffled sounds of someone walking in, and he could feel a heavy gaze on his back.

John’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his mouth was open, quiet moans filling the air. Alexander chuckled. “You’re very responsive.”

“You’re perfect.” John nodded. “I’ve wanted this for so long, It’s better than anything I could have imagined. You’re perfect. I’ve watched you for so long.”

A familiar hand brushed against his shoulders and settled at the base of his skull and squeezed. “He is perfect, isn’t he? My little Hamilton.”

John’s eyes went wide and he froze. “Sir, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh no, sir, it’s exactly what it looks like.” Alexander laughed and tilted his head back. “I was missing your touch, sir. You left me alone for far too long, I had to go entertain myself.”

George bent down and whispered into his ear, “so you decide to go wrap your hand around some rich boy’s cock, posing like some expensive whore.” George squeezed his neck tighter. “You look too proud to be ashamed, my beautiful boy, trying to get me angry.”

John was frozen beneath him, and Alexander dragged his hand up John’s cock, flicking his thumb over the slit. George let go of his neck. “I’m going to sit and watch, you have until I tell Laurens to leave.”

Alexander tilted his head back. “Do I get a kiss?”

George’s eyes narrowed, but a soft kiss was pressed to his brow, before George sat down in a nearby chair, legs spread.

Alexander looked back down at John and bent to press a kiss to John’s still lips. “What do you want, my dear Laurens? I can give you all sorts of things. The General wants a show, after all. And we both live to serve the General.”

“I don’t know.” 

Alexander looked over at George and raised a brow. George nodded.

He moved down John’s body until he was laying between John’s spread legs and pressed his lips to the tip of John’s cock. “I’ve been told I’m very talented with my mouth.”

John said nothing, but nodded. 

Alexander kept his eyes on George as he swallowed around John’s, moaning as he watched the General palm his own cock through his breeches. 

John didn’t last very long, and Alexander sat back on his heels as John shuffled away, hair a mess and cheeks still flushed. 

The General cleared his throat. “Alexander.”

He turned to look at George, licking his lips as his eyes took in the General’s posture and white knuckles from where George was gripping the handles of the chair. “Yes, George?”

“I have many things to say.”

Alexander crawled forward until he was between George’s spread legs, hands going up George’s thighs. “Yes?”

A hand went down to tangle in his hair and pulled him in for a harsh kiss. George pulled away, chest heaving. “But first, I need you, my beautiful boy.”

“Am I your beautiful boy, George? I wanted to look just how you like me, I did it for you.” 

George groaned. “Oh, I know you did, my perfect, beautiful boy.”

“How do you want me, sir?”

“Closer.”


	36. Sex Pollen/Heat

They hadn’t known what it was - the gas had somehow made its way into the white house, discovered only when the interns seemed to get heated in the corners and closets of the building. It was still unidentified, but the symptoms were clear - it was some sort of extreme aphrodisiac.

George had been assured that the gas hadn’t made its way to the oval office, but as he stared at his treasury secretary, he had his doubts. The heat was familiar, something he pushed down and ignored until he had the time to deal with it. Alexander Hamilton had always been attractive, and it seemed more apparent as George shifted in his seat.

Alexander stopped talking. “Sir? Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

He shook his head and squeezed the handles of the chair. “No, I’m fine. Continue.”

“Of course, sir.” Alexander looked back down at the tablet in his hands. “Well, anyway, there are the usual concerns. I’ve compiled the needed information into a report which you have-”

George shifted again, and tried to force down the rising desire. His eyes fell to Alexander’s hands, fingers moving over the screen of the tablet. The sudden question of how those fingers would feel inside of him filled his mind. He blinked, surprised at the want that rose up within him at the thought. 

Alexander stopped talking. “Sir, are you okay.”

He swallowed. “Yes.” It sounded choked.

“I don’t think you’re okay, sir. Is there anything I can do?” Hamilton leaned in closer, and George groaned and put his arms on his desk and rested his face in his hands.

“Sir?”

“Hamilton, I need you to leave,”

Alexander’s hand moved to rest on his shoulder. “Sir, I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.”

“Hamilton, the gas wasn’t cleared.”

Hamilton’s brows raised. “What do you mean the gas wasn’t cleared?”

He shifted his weight again. “I mean,” he breathed out, “that I am this close to begging you to fuck me.”

“Mr. President.”

“Hamilton.” He groaned again. “What are you still doing here?”

“Sir, I am here to serve you in any way you need.”

George looked up. Alexander was leaning over the desk, a small space separating them. His cock twitched against his thigh. “Hamilton, you don’t know what you’re saying. This isn’t appropriate.”

Alexander’s hand moved down his arm to wrap around his wrist. “Sir, do you want me to go?”

“No.” The word was a whisper on his lips.

Alexander smirked. “Then bend over the desk, sir.”

Hands moved to pull the jacket from his shoulders, reached around to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. George’s skin was burning as it was revealed to the open air when his undershirt was pulled over his head. 

Alexander pressed a kiss to the skin between his shoulder blades. “You know, this is not how I have dreamed up this situation.”

“Oh.” George licked his lips. “Well, we can always come back to that.”

Another kiss. “Perfect. I look forward to it.” Alexander’s hand undid the button and zipper of his pants and palmed over his cloth covered cock. “I would tell you how much I want this inside of me, but I don’t think that’s what you want right now.”

He pushed his hips back and shook his head. “Later.”

His pants and boxers were pushed down. “Later.”


	37. Body Worship; Lingerie/Outfits

Alex had a certain way of doing things. He always wore his lingerie under his clothing, feeling the lace against his skin as he went about his day. Knowing just what he was wearing made the anticipation build, and the moment when George saw it that much sweeter.

Their empty wine glasses were placed into the sink, and George’s hands fell to his hips, thumbing along the waistband of his pants. “I love you, you know.”

Alex kissed George’s lips. “I love you too.”

“Hmmm.” George’s hands shifted to his ass and brought him forward. “The night is still young and neither of us have anywhere to be in the morning.”

He titled his head to the side. “Are you trying to talk me into bed with you, Mr. Washington?”

George pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “If I am?”

“You’ll find that I’m most agreeable.”

The most exciting part was always when George first noticed the lace - always lace, George liked the way his skin showed through the fabric. George unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his undershirt up over his head. “Oh,” George gasped. “You’ve gotten yourself all dressed up for me.”

Alex nodded. “I thought you deserved it after the long week.”

“You’re perfect.” George kissed him on the lips and started to trail a path down his bare chest until George was kneeling in front of him, lips on the lace and satin of the garter belt. “You’re beautiful. You’re everything I’ve wanted and more.”

Alex smiled. “Just for you.”

His pants were shoved down, and George’s hands fell to his thighs, squeezing with the slightest pressure. “Oh, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

George’s lips moved down over skin and lace, leaving a trail of kisses and light red marks until George’s mouth was at his inner thigh. “I love all of you, but your legs are perhaps my favorite.”

“Really?”

Fingers hooked themselves under the straps connecting the stockings and belt and snapped them. Alex breathed in a sharp breath and George smiled. “Oh yes. They’re perfect.” George’s hands went around his thighs. “They fit perfectly in my hands, just for me.”

“Just for you.”

George lifted his head to ghost over the head of his cock peeking over the panties he was wearing. “Do you want to know what else I love?”

Alex leaned back against the counter. “What else do you love?”

A kiss was pressed to the head of his cock. “This.”

“Show me.”

George’s eyes met his. “I plan to.”


	38. Do you have any idea how awkward it is to have him/her confide in me about how he/she thinks you're cheating--when I'M the one you're cheating with.

George watched Alexander follow Martha out of the dining room, leaving him alone with Eliza. He took a sip of his wine, and watched as she circled the rim of her glass with her finger. 

The irony did not escape him when she looked up at him and said, “I think Alexander is cheating on me.”

George set his glass down and took in a breath to steady himself. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know.” Eliza was hunched in on herself, looking to the side. “It’s just a feeling. He’s always flirted with people, but I always knew he was only ever mine, you know?” She sighed. “I’m just not so sure anymore.” 

He cleared his throat, trying to come up with the right thing to say when less than an hour ago Alex had been on his knees in George’s home office. “Do you want me to ask him about it?”

“No.” Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know. I just needed to tell someone.”

“What about your sisters?”

She laughed. “Angelica would rip him into pieces before he knew what was happening. I don’t want to worry them. It might not even be true, you know?”

George nodded, and reached for his wine glass again. 

They fell into an uneasy silence, Eliza unsure how to continue to conversation and George refusing to. 

Martha and Alex returned, plates with dessert in hand. The cake was handed out, and Alex took his seat across from George. Martha looked over the table. “Oh, I forgot the forks! While I’m up, would anyone like an after dinner coffee? I have decaf if you don’t want the caffeine.”

George looked at his now empty wine glass. “Coffee sounds lovely, dear.”

“I’ll also take some,” Alex said. 

Eliza shot George a heavy look before saying, “I’ll help you, Martha.” 

The two women walked into the kitchen, and George turned to Alex. “Love, you left me alone with your wife.”

“So?” Alex raised a brow. “I was alone with yours. That’s not an uncommon occurrence.”

“Do you have any idea how awkward it is to have her confide in me about how she thinks you’re cheating–when I’m the one you’re cheating with.“ 

Alex’s eyes widened. “She didn’t.”

“She did.”

Alex sat back in his chair and sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, love.”

“I know, I know.” Alex reached for his hand. “But it’s not like we went into this thinking this was impossible.”

George squeezed Alex’s hand tight and then let go. “No, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”


	39. Youth Is Wasted On The Young

George ran his finger along the soft skin of Alexander’s side, taking in all that had yet to be marked by time. Alexander was asleep for once, relaxed, eyes closed and breathing deep. It was rare that even he got to see Alexander in this state.

His Alexander, with his dark hair spilling over his shoulders and long lashes hiding bright eyes. He flattened his hand in the space between Alexander’s shoulder blades, feeling the rise and fall of Alexander’s chest.

So young to have suffered so much. Alexander never spoke a word of his origins, anything George knew was gathered from clues rather than fact. Alexander was so young yet worked so hard and seemed to know so much, always absorbing and learning from the world around him.

The callused skin of his hands was a stark contrast to the flawless, smooth expanse of Alexander’s back. What he’d give to be young again, to meet Alexander when his age wasn’t a constant and stark separation between the two of them. 

Would he have even garnered a glance from his darling Alexander had they met when he was young? What had he been at that age but a failure?

Alexander’s eyes fluttered open. “Hello.”

George pressed a kiss to the bare skin of Alexander’s shoulder. “Hello, love. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been right here.”

He chuckled. “Yes, but you’ve been sleeping, and I’ve been awake, suffering without your words to fill the silence.”

“Coming from the man who is the reason I was in need of such rest.”

“Ah,” George said. “To be young again where a midday nap is no cause for concern over a night of no sleep.”

“I am more than willing to do my best to exhaust you, should you ever desire.” The curl to Alexander’s lip had George’s mind running away from him, loosing itself down paths where he had no worry but how best to keep Alexander’s attentions on him alone.

He pressed another kiss to Alexander’s shoulder. “I always desire.”


	40. Canon Era Whamilton

It was rare that a letter gave General George Washington reason to pause. Too often the words began to blur together as he went through the papers brought before him. There were only so many times he could read the same reports and questions rephrased before he longed for some sort of distraction. 

Mrs. Hamilton was asking for her husband back as she was expecting their first child. 

George’s eyes drifted over the Alexander, hard at work, quill moving across the page. Alexander’s hair was falling out of his braid, and George knew that there would be a single piece right between Alexander’s eyes, the man too focused to move it out of the way. George longed to walk over and push it back, press a kiss to Alexander’s cheek. He would excuse the other men and take his sweet time loving his boy. 

It was something he fantasized about - the chance to spend hour upon hour wearing nothing but their skin with every opportunity to worship one another as they deserved. The secrecy meant that they were always conscious, always paying attention to how long they had been away. 

George longed to see Alexander relaxed, the tension gone from his boy’s shoulders, able to fully lose himself in bliss with nothing to distract them.

The letter crumpled in his hand. George took in a deep breath and smoothed it out. As General, he had every right to deny Mrs. Hamilton’s request. It was ridiculous of her to demand such a thing. As General, Hamilton was a useful aide, irreplaceable in his ability to write with such fervor and his intelligence and capacity to learn beyond compare. As a man, Alexander was his lover whom he was loathe to give up. 

He folded the letter and shoved it to the side, doing his best to push it from his mind. It was he who had encouraged Alexander to get married, this was his own fault. Alexander had been so hesitant - didn’t want to belong to another when he was already the General’s. George hadn’t thought that through. 

Mrs. Hamilton was pregnant, giving Alexander the one thing he could not. 

The image of Alexander cradling a child to his chest filled his mind, and suddenly George felt hollow. To not tell Alexander would be a betrayal. 

It was late in the day, and the tent was near empty. “Gentlemen, I have a matter to discuss with Colonel Hamilton.” And for once it wasn’t a lie, just something he didn’t intend to act upon.

The men filed out, and Alexander looked confused. A sweet look on the beautiful face of his boy. There was always something heavy in the air the moment they were lone, the possibility of acting on desires always there. George reached a hand across the table, intertwining his fingers with Alexander’s. 

Alexander’s hand was so delicate, but fit in his as if made for it. He let out a breath. “Alexander.”

Alexander’s posture relaxed, no longer in the role of soldier. “George, what is it?”

Something selfish in him wanted to be the one to tell Alexander, wanted to see the realization and rare joy cross his boy’s features. Instead he squeezed Alexander’s hand tight. “I love you.” He pressed a kiss to back of Alexander’s hand. “You have made a world of difference. We wouldn’t be here without you, I wouldn’t be here without you. You are my light, Alexander.”

“George,” concern instead of joy. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He looked to the side. “Forgive me, something must have come over me.” 

A hand brushed against his cheek. “George.”

He grabbed that hand too, and pressed a kiss to each of the tips of Alexander’s fingers, covered with ink. He knew anyone could come in, but he needed this small delusion, that this slow, peaceful affection was something he could claim for himself. “I love you so much.”

“And I you.”


	41. You think you're funny?

It was a rare occurrence that George was alone with Alexander while at work. George kept it that way on purpose - the temptation was always there, and George had the terrible habit of acting on it. 

They both watched Jefferson leave his office, shutting the door behind him. Alexander turned back around to look at him and smirked. “Mr. Washington, that was an informative meeting, don’t you think?”

It was no secret that Thomas Jefferson was attracted to his Alexander, and George had sat through the meeting watching Alexander flirt with Jefferson - accidentally brushing their hands together, Alexander meeting Jefferson’s gaze and licking his lips. It was all a game to Alexander, but one that George didn’t like to play. 

George tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, looked at Alexander, and said, “Don’t think I didn’t see what you were doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alex’s smirk widened into a smile. “It was a productive meeting, and while I did my best to contribute, I don’t think that’s worth mentioning since I’ve been told that one of my worst qualities is my inability to shut up.”

He continued to tap out a steady pattern, looking at Alexander. George hadn’t kept it secret just how possessive he was - how much he loved to see Alexander’s skin dark with bruises that he had put there, how much it got under his skin to see Alexander flirt with others while knowing very well he could see. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” 

Alexander crossed his legs and said, “I’ve been told I’d make a great comedian.”

“Of course you have.” George lifted his wrist to check his watch. He had an hour until he was expected by anyone, plenty of time. “So, tell me, was I imagining the lingering glances you kept shooting Jefferson’s way? The way you’d watch his eyes drop to your mouth, and you’d bite your lip as if you were trying to think of something to say, distracted by his proximity?”

“No,” Alex said, voice low. “You weren’t imagining anything, Mr. Washington.”

George stopped tapping his fingers. “That’s hardly appropriate for a professional environment, Mr. Hamilton.”

“You’re absolutely correct, sir.” Alexander leaned forward, looking at George from under his lashes. “Is there anyway I could make it up to you?”

George spread his legs and smirking, said, “I could think of a few ways.”


	42. Bottom George

It was funny, Alexander thought as he circled the General. The rope weighed in his hand, and he eyed George’s wrists. The General was well-practiced, hands clasped behind his back, eyes tracking Alexander’s movements around the room. The rope was rough beneath his fingers, and would leave marks on George’s wrists if he was anything less than perfectly still.

Alexander watched George lick his lips and smiled, stepping closer. George tensed, and Alexander ran a soothing hand over his shoulders. He stepped behind George and pressed a kiss to the top of George’s hair. “You’re doing so well for me, perfect even.” There were certain things that George would never admit to needing, things that Alexander had to infer. George bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, like Atlas before him, and it was Alexander’s job to soothe the aches. 

He set the rope down to his side and started to rub some of the tension out of George’s shoulders. George’s head dropped forward, and Alexander felt a sort of satisfaction rise in his chest. He was the only one that got the see their Commander like this; a sight reserved just for Alexander. 

Another kiss, this time pressed to the back of George’s neck. Alexander pressed down on George’s shoulders and whispered in George’s ear, “I want you on the bed, love, stripped.”

George stood and removed his clothing with care and efficiency, the fabric folded in a neat pile on the side. George resumed his kneeling position in the middle of the bed, candlelight gleaming off of his broad shoulders. Alexander took in a breath and admired. George was a patient man, and Alexander knew he could stay there and stare for hours and there’d be no complaint. As patient as George was, he was much less so. 

He picked up the rope again and stepped toward the bed. George wasn’t responsive in the traditional ways. Alexander had to keep an eye out for minute changes in expression and how much George allowed himself to relax. He circled one of George’s wrists with his hand and said, “I’m going to bind your arms, love.”

George gave him a single nod, still silent, and Alexander began to wind the ropes around George’s arms. It was repetitive, soothing almost. When he was done, he pressed a kiss to George’s shoulder. George flexed his arms, testing the strength of the rope and knot. Alexander watched more tension bleed from George’s shoulders and smiled.


	43. where George is the one who is angsting

George knew he was being ridiculous, beyond ridiculous. He was aged, unable to walk without a cane, slower, less hearty. He had once felt strong, imposing, able to take command of a room. George sighed and leaned back into his chair. His days of standing tall enough for a thousand men were well behind him. It didn’t matter, anyway. Alexander hadn’t been his for a very long time.

The name burned in his mind - Reynolds - the woman who had been able to steal his Alexander away from the marriage that had taken his Alexander away from him. 

The memory burned bright in his mind. 

Alexander had always been the type to love with everything he had, and George had never been blind. He had seen Alexander’s thoughts going toward Elizabeth, had watched Alexander write letter after letter in order to charm his bride-to-be. It had hurt, but it was a selfish pain. Alexander deserved happiness, the public kind that George would never be able to give him. 

Their affair was never meant to last, but George had hoped. He had allowed himself to think that should he ever see Alexander again they’d be able to go back to where they started. They’d be able to slip into a dark room and melt into each other’s touch as they had so many times before. George had fooled himself into thinking it would never end.

Alexander was not of the same mind. They had won the war and Alexander had forced an envelope into his hand, kissed his cheek, and then walked away. George had never been able to bring himself to read the letter. He had placed it in another envelope and tucked in close to his chest where it still remained.

He had tried to talk to Alexander, had tried to intertwine their fingers and lean forward to taste Alexander’s sweet lips once more. Alexander had shot him down every time, a gentle shake of his head and the words, “I’ve had to devote myself to my Betsey, George. You know this.” Alexander’s eyes had always been so confused, hurt. George recognized a retaliation when he saw one, but had always left wanting to know just what it was that he had done.

George had wanted it to be a lie, had told himself Alexander loved him so much he was only trying to prevent further hurt.

He had been right. It was a lie. Alexander had never devoted himself to his wife, instead finding comfort in whoever came to his door begging. 

The sob rang through his chest and the tears burned at the corners of his eyes. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to cry, so long since he had allowed any sort of emotion to rise from thoughts of Alexander. It was time, George supposed. Alexander had never been his.

He reached into his waistcoat and pulled out the letter. His eyes darted toward the fire, and he ran his finger over the edge. It’d be so easy to toss it in. George would finally be at peace, the possibility of the words held within no longer nagging at the corners of his mind.

He flipped the envelope in his hands and shook his head. No. He needed to know what, for all intents and purposes, had been his Alexander’s last words. Alexander Hamilton and George Washington had exchanged many words since the war, but none had held quite the same weight.

George unfolded the paper slowly. Another sob filled the air of the otherwise quiet room when he read the first words, “My George.”

His finger traced the loops of his name, Alexander’s neat lettering a familiar pattern. George took in a shaky breath and let his eyes continue down the page.

_My George,_

_With the end of this war and the final battle and the echoing of the cries of victory, I look forward to just where we shall lead our country, and I fear where we shall lead each other. War is a hell like none other, and yet in it I have found the most exquisite form of happiness. It fills me with terror, George, for I know what comes when I allow myself to feel such joy. I have been haunted by trials and hardships my entire life, and I know better than to expect anything different. I mean not to lower your spirits on such a day, but these are words that need to be said. I love you so much that my whole heart and entire being aches with it. I know if I tried to say these words to you in person I’d never let you go._

_I’m setting you free, George. If I do not, you will leave me behind as you lead this country forward. You claim you love me, and being the fool that I am, I’ve allowed myself to believe you. You’ll do everything you can to bring me with you, and we simply cannot have that. If I tried to put word to everything that I feel for you, my love, this letter will never see its end._

_There are shouts already, and I know that the victory celebrations will keep us apart for a long while. Keep this letter with you, or burn it, whatever you do please do not forget it. Do not forget me. Your touch is forever burned onto my skin, and I wish that as we grow and go our separate ways, you keep me in your heart. There is only one thing I’d have you do. If our paths cross again, I will be relying on you, my love, to guide me. I long for your lips on my skin and your hands in my hair, but I will not allow myself to ask you for those things. You might leave this bloody war and your mind will clear and you may realize I was only a willing body to warm your bed. I accept this as a possibility. I have included a ring in this letter, my love. It’s simple, unremarkable. I need you to wear it, at least once, if I see you._ _If you do not I shall assume I was a mere convenience._

_Oh, my heart is full with love for you,_

_yrs. Alexander_

Sure enough, when George turned the envelope over, a gold band fell onto the floor.


	44. You’re in trouble now

John, like every other man working in close quarters to General Washington, had learned to read the Commander’s moods as well as he could his letters. The General was stressed, tension in his eyes and shoulders giving it away like a shining beacon. It was deep-set, rising up in a way it almost never did, the General’s fingers tapping out a pattern on the wooden desk. His eyes kept glancing to Hamilton, bent of his own desk with quill in hand. 

John smirked to himself and elbowed Hamilton in the side. “The General’s in a right mood.”

Hamilton huffed. “He usually is.”

“He’s looking toward you, Hammie. You know as well as I do how that usually ends up.” John chuckled, thinking of all the times he laid his lips over the fresh bruises blossoming on Hamilton’s hips after the General had been in a mood, the times he had run his hand in soothing motions over bite marks. “You’d best go to him now, before he gets to irritated.”

Hamilton shook his head and said, “Lafayette will take care of it, I’m sure.”

“I don’t think so.” John clucked his tongue. “Not with how focused he is.”

Hamilton looked up from what he was writing and up toward him and said, “Laurens, I don’t have the time to take hours out of my day to entertain the General.”

John heard the sudden silence, the General no longer tapping the pattern. His eyes went wide and he looked at Hamilton, “oh, you’re in trouble now.”

The General’s footsteps grew nearer, and a heavy hand settled on John’s shoulder. “Laurens, Hamilton, what makes you think I have time to be entertained?” 

John turned back to the paper in front of him. “Nothing at all, sir. I apologize for causing a disturbance.”

“Oh, there is no disturbance.” The General’s hand squeezed tight and let go. “But, Hamilton, I’m afraid I need to borrow a moment of your time. I’m sorry to take up such a precious commodity, but in war scarcity is a common struggle.”

John saw Hamilton’s back stiffen from the corner of his eye, but he also saw Hamilton’s eyes darken. He smirked to himself. 

“Laurens,” the General called out.

“Yes, sir?”

“I believe Hamilton might be indisposed for the rest of the day, do please take over his work.”


	45. Okay...This Is New

George liked to take his time, run his hands over Alexander’s skin, strip away the layers of fabric until he was bare to the world and to George’s eyes. George often complained how they were rushed, said it was a shame they had to settle for pushing down their breeches and making due with the precious private moments they had.

Now, for some reason they had been blessed with hours to spend alone together in George’s quarters, and George intended to take advantage of that. Alexander was standing, back to the door, and George was kneeling in front of him, peeling off his stocks and pressed soft kisses to the revealed skin.

When George’s hands went to the laces of his breeches, Alexander had relaxed. He was smiling, watching George take his time, impatient for them to make their way to the bed so nearby. He reached down to push a piece of hair behind George’s ear, receiving a smile in return.

He let his nails scrape at George’s scalp, running his hand through the hair. Alexander’s hand got caught on a tangle, and instead of the reproachful look he had expected, George let out a soft gasp.

Alexander froze. “George, my love.”

“Yes, Alexander?”

He pulled on George’s hair again, this time with more force. “Is this okay?”

“I,” George let out a quiet moan, “yes, I suppose it is.”

Alexander smiled and pulled harder, making George tilt his head back. “This is new.”

“Yes, ah, it is,” George said, eyes wide.

“I think I like it.”

George nodded as much as he was able. “I think I do too.”


	46. I Don't Need You Anymore

George dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, knowing that there was no easy way to do this. It was time for Alexander to leave, and neither of them wanted him to. He took in a deep breath the steady himself. It was shaky. He took in another. Better. He could do this, he had to. George lifted his head and sat up straight in his chair, pressing his palms to the table. He could show no sign of discomfort, no hurt, no longing. Alexander would see it - would act on it, and he could give in.

He always gave in.

George pressed down hard on the wood, needing some sort of sensation to focus on. Alexander would be here any moment. He was going to lose - give up, force away - the sole thing he cared for in any moment. He took in another breath.

Many moments passed before the familiar footsteps sounded off on the wooden floor - the sharp sound somehow distinctive of his Alexander. Not his.

Colonel Hamilton cut an attractive figure, and the boy knew it. His hair was pulled back into a tidy queue, his lips quirked up in a small smile that had George longing to lean forward and lay claim to the sweet mouth. George shook his head.

Alexander’s brows furrowed and he stepped forward, concerned. “Sir? Is everything alright?” Alexander placed a hand on the desk, inching it forward until the tips of his fingers brushed George’s. 

George looked down and sighed, unable to meet Alexander’s searching gaze. Alexander’s fingers were so delicate compared to his own, so much like the rest of him. He took in another deep breath. He needed to do this. He could push down these feelings for one conversation. 

“Colonel Hamilton,” George said. “I’m afraid that this conversation will be far from pleasant.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. “George? What’s wrong?”

“Colonel Hamilton,” he repeated. “I’m afraid it’s time that I ask you to leave.”

Alexander’s hand moved to fully cover his own, squeezing tight, searching for some assurance. George remained still. If he let himself move he knew where he’d go - straight into Alexander’s waiting arms, and then he’d never let go. He had to let go. The world was changing, and the world needed him to let go. 

“What do you mean?” Alexander’s voice was a whisper, Alexander sensing the serious tone. This wasn’t official, no matter how much George would lie to himself and say that it was. There was nothing professional about this.

George inhaled through his nose, chest heaving with the motion. He would not allow himself to break. “I don’t need you anymore, Colonel Hamilton. Your position is of no more use to myself.” The words hurt, his tongue aching and resistant, his teeth sharp and clenched together. There was a high-pitched humming noise in his ears.

Alexander’s eyes shone in the candlelight, the man too stubborn to let the tears fall. “I see, General,” Alexander said, voice shaking. “I suppose I’ll get on my way, then.” 

The hand on-top of his loosened its grip, and Alexander slowly drew away. George closed his eyes, trying his best to reminder this last sensation. As if possessing its own mind, George reached for Alexander’s hand and held tight.

A sob wracked through his chest, the sound filling the air. 

He had thought he’d be able to wait, hold it down until he had a private moment, but Alexander always had always inspired a sort of impulsiveness in him. “Alexander,” he whispered, “don’t ever think I don’t love you.” He let go of Alexander’s hand, and moved his own to clench tightly against his thighs.

George did not look up, and he heard hurried footsteps followed by the slam of a door.


	47. Behave

It was simple to get Hamilton to pay attention to him, to get the bright eyes focused on him and him alone. All it took was a brush of his hand against Hamilton’s back or a stern tone.

As the hours wore on, the men would filter out, and it would be Washington and Hamilton left alone. Washington would sit at his desk and go through his papers as if he wasn’t aware of Hamilton’s every move, pretending that he had more important things to focus on. It was all a farce, but one that Washington enjoyed.

He pretended he did not notice Hamilton creeping closer, acted as if he did not feel the fingers wandering up his arm. A stray piece of hair was pushed behind his ear. Washington clucked his tongue. “Behave,” he said, smirking to himself as Hamilton stepped back, returning to his letters.

Washington watched as their candles burned lower, kept a mental tally of all the times Hamilton shifted in his seat, the man no doubt growing impatient. 

He had been teasing Hamilton all day - his fingers lightly pulling at Hamilton’s queue, hands brushing along Hamilton’s breeches, gazes full of intent. They hadn’t had time alone together in so long, it really was no mystery why Hamilton kept biting his lip and trying to catch his attention.

The air grew silent as the tip of Hamilton’s pen stopped scratching at the paper, having finished the last of his work for the day. Washington leaned back in his seat, curious as to what Hamilton would do next. 

It didn’t take very long. Hamilton pushed his chair out from the table and walked toward him, looking right at him, no subtlety in his movements. Washington watched as nimble fingers removed layers of cloth and threw them to the floor until Hamilton stood before him in his shirtsleeves. 

“Sir,” Hamilton said. “My work is finished for the day.”

He nodded. “So it is.”

Hamilton’s tongue darted out. “Might I have permission to do as I wish, sir?”

“That,” Washington replied, “depends on what you wish.”

It all Hamilton needed to take as an invitation, because in the next moment, Hamilton was sitting astride his lap, hands thrown over his shoulders. “Sir, I’d very much wish for you to kiss me and then fuck me over this nice desk of yours.”

Washington’s hands settled on Hamilton’s thighs, pressing down firmly. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Hamilton leaned forward to press a kiss to his jaw. “Please, I’ve been needing you for what feels like ages, sir. Please, George.” Hamilton’s hips shifted forward, and he could hear the playful shift in Hamilton’s tone. “I don’t imagine you’d be too opposed.”

Washington moved his hands to Hamilton’s hips, thinking about how nice Hamilton’s skin would look littered with bruises. He leaned forward and caught Hamilton’s lips. He pulled away, Hamilton’s sweet taste still on his tongue. “You imagine correctly.”


	48. An Obscure AU

There were always rumors - words whispered on the wind, coming from the dark alleys he rushed past. They spoke of the sort of beasts that could kill you with a look, claws for hands and daggers and eyes. Children would eat up tales of the sirens and mermaids that attracted sailors with their voices and beauty before pulling them into the water to drown.

Alexander clenched his fists tight and breathed deep. Whatever this was, he could get through it. So what if the world was fading at the edges, so what if he could feel his skin peeling away from him layer by layer. He took in another breath, letting it out slowly. He focused on the paper in front of him. He could do this. 

Hours passed, and the feeling intensified. It was burning, deep from within him. Alexander wanted nothing more than to run away as fast as he could. He needed water. Clean water to stand and wade in and cleanse and cool his body. His chest ached, but Alexander continued to write.

He had always ignored the rumors and stories, thinking them too ridiculous to be true. He had been too busy, too focused, to think of such things. Perhaps he should have listened to his mother, she had always told him to listen, take heed to the warning in the dark.

Alexander scratched at the back of his hand, and shoved down the rising anxiety when he saw the layers of skin peel away. There was something underneath, and every second that passed made him want to scratch and pull all of the burning skin away to find out just what it was.

He shoved the dead skin off the table and returned to work. He was almost finished, the men around him finishing up or being dismissed.

A firm hand settled itself on his shoulder. “Hamilton, what is the matter? You appear to be out of sorts.”

Alexander shook his head. “I am fine.”

The General watched as Alexander ran his hand over the table in front of him, dusting away whatever was there. “Hamilton, I find myself disagreeing with that.”

He swallowed. “And why is that, sir?”

Washington reached for his hand, running his thumb over the patch Alexander had been scratching at all day. “Because I’ve seen this before, my boy.”

Alexander closed his eyes. He had felt the difference, but he had refused to look at it. He couldn’t look at it. He took in a deep breath. His lungs still burned. “Seen what, sir?”

Washington scratched his thumbnail against the newly revealed scales decorating his hand and Alexander almost moaned. The feeling was new; sensations unlike anything he had felt before. The General exerted more pressure. “I spent some time in the islands, you hear whispers. I came upon a beautiful woman, once, in my travels.”

A hand moved Alexander’s braid to the side and lips were pressed to the back of his neck. The General whispered in his ear, “I learned a great many things from her, though being able to recognize this for what it is was not what I expected to use that knowledge for.”

“Yes, sir.” Alexander breathed in again, adjusting to the sensations. “What do you suggest, sir? I’m not sure what to do.”

“First thing,” another kiss to the back of his neck, “we need to get you to water.”

\--

The General guided him toward the river, a hand firm on the back of his neck. Alexander struggled to remain still, split between running toward the river at the first sound of rushing water and rubbing himself up against the General. 

He took in a breath, the nearness of the water somehow soothing his aching lungs. The General stopped walking, and so did he. “Hamilton,” the General started. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“A great many, sir.”

Washington reached down to rub at his hand, the scales now fully exposed. “I don’t have many answers. But,” the General looked him in the eyes, pausing for a moment to think before continuing, “the woman I met told me she was a siren, and I’d imagine you to be something similar.” Washington’s eyes dropped to his lips for second. “It certainly explains some of my recent desires.”

Alexander was hit with the sudden urge to step forward and touch. The General was saying words like ‘siren’ and ‘desire,’ things associated with a thrall and attraction. The General let go of Alexander’s hand. “But that’s not important, you need the water. She could never be out of the water for long - said it drained her, made her burn.”

He looked back toward the water, and suddenly, the General’s promised warmth didn’t seem so appealing. Alexander stepped forward and removed his coat, letting it fall onto the ground. His clothing marked the trail he took to the water, and soon he was standing knee-deep in the water, bare to the world.

The General’s eyes met nothing as Alexander was overcome with the need to submerge himself. He let himself fall forward, and the water welcome him home. It was cold - a sharp, but comforting, sensation. He opened his mouth and breathed in, and the burning in his chest disappeared. 

Alexander opened his eyes, and he watched as layers of skin were washed away by the current. It was disgusting, really, but it felt like a weight was taken off of his shoulders. There were scales now, smooth to the touch and glinting green in the faint sunlight coming through the water. They covered the backs of his hands, and went up his arms, somehow blending into the rest of his skin without a fault.

He planted his feet on the ground and stood, peaking his head out over the water. The General was standing at the edge, staring out in his direction. Alexander caught Washington’s eye, and with a flick of his wrist, Washington started to walk toward him.

The General was entranced - eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Alexander wiggled his fingers, and bright laughter filled his mouth when Washington sped up in response. He couldn’t explain it - wasn’t aware of everything his body was doing - but there was an unfamiliar giddiness flowing through him when the General was close enough to touch.

Washington’s hand came up to stroke the top of his cheek bone, and his voice sounded enchanted when he said, “Hamilton, my Hamilton. You’re so beautiful, always, now and forever. You’ve quirked your finger and here I’ve come, my boy.”

Alexander raised his hand to the General’s chest, pressing flat against the now soaked vest. “You have come, haven’t you? Because I wanted you to. Why did I want you to?”

“Because,” Washington chuckled and leaned his head down, “you want to kill me.”

Alexander went on his toes. “Oh?” Something clicked in the back of his mind, an image forming of Washington floating face-down in the water. The General was right. 

“Yes.” Washington’s arm wrapped around his waist and brought him in close. “And I want nothing more than to let you. But,”

“But?” Alexander asked. He bit his lip and tilted his head to the side in invitation.

The General groaned, bringing his face closer. “I can’t let you do that, I need you to win this war, and you need me to help you with this.”

“So that might be.” Alexander brought his arms up around the General’s neck. “I won’t kill you yet, but you must promise me two things.”

“Whatever you want.”

He smirked. “One, when you do meet you end, it will be at my hands.” The General was his - his to take, his to taste. Nothing else mattered in that moment. “Two, I need you to kiss me.”

Washington’s eyes were still haze, but the General nodded and connected their lips.


	49. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.

It was the stress and the long hours and the weight up everything on his shoulders. His eyes kept drifting to Hamilton, bent over his table, hard at work as his quill went across the paper. The candle light reflected off of the waves of Hamilton’s hair, and George kept focusing in on it, wanting to know what it would feel like between his fingers.

He shook his head and got back to work, reading the letter in his hand. His own thoughts on Hamilton were meaningless. It had been a great many years since he had allowed himself the feeling of a young man beneath his hands - not since before he had married Martha. That was all it was. His mind was searching for some sort of escape from all of the chaos that came with war.

George read the letter over for perhaps the fifth time. He sighed and called over, “Hamilton, I have need of you.” 

“Of course, sir,” Hamilton responded, as prompt as he ever was.

Hamilton stood before him, flames still reflecting off his hair and now his eyes. George sighed and handed the letter to Hamilton. “I need you to pen a reply, tell him it can’t be done, no matter how much he might think it necessary. We don’t have the resources.” 

“Right away, sir.” 

He had expected that Hamilton would return to his own spot at the table, but instead, Hamilton bent over and started to write the letter on George’s desk.

It was an invitation, it had to be. 

George eyed the pieces of hair falling from Hamilton’s hair and hiding the young man’s face, followed the arch of his back and admired the curve of Hamilton’s arse and the line of the slim legs. George swallowed and shook his head. This was getting ridiculous.

Minutes passed, time marked by the scratching of Hamilton’s quill. Soon, the letter was finished and Hamilton straightened out, handing it to him for approval. George reached for it, but was distracted by Hamilton’s half-lidded gaze. Hamilton’s tongue darted out to wet his lip, and George jerked back, holding the letter to his chest.

Hamilton leaned forward, too close to be proper, and asked, “are you alright, sir? You seem a little tense.”

George narrowed his eyes and observed Hamilton - taking note of every quirk of expressions and tilt to the man’s body. He swallowed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Hamilton smirked, but remained silent.

“Well?” George asked. “I can have you hanged if you act in such a way, as you very well know.”

“You wouldn’t hang me, sir,” Hamilton said, smiling. He was right.

“And why not?”

Hamilton leaned in even closer, the smallest space separating their lips. “Because you’d hang yourself too.” 

George’s hand reached up without his permission and tangled into Hamilton’s hair. “You’re right.”

Hamilton’s lips were everything he had wanted them to be.


	50. You’re my regret.

George could see the thousands of questions in Alexander’s eyes. He looked to the side, clenching his fist, struggling for the first time in years to keep his words to himself. 

“Alexander,” the name slipped out. Too intimate for them now. Perfect for everything that George needed to say. He took in a deep breath. “Stay a moment.” 

He watched Alexander’s hand freeze mid-reach for the door. George didn’t dare let any air escape his lips, didn’t let himself move as he waited to see what Alexander would do.

Alexander’s back was still to George when he said, “of course, sir.”

George still didn’t move as he observed Alexander for what could be the final time - taking in each new line surrounding the still bright eyes. He raised a hand to his cheek and finally let out the air in his chest. “Alexander.”

Still stiff, uncomfortable. Alexander nodded and said, “yes, sir.”

He shook his head. “Don’t call me that.” His voice cracked. George sighed, knowing that this wasn’t going to go the way he wanted it to. There were too many years he had shoved the pain down, done his best to ignore it. “Please, not you. Not anymore.”

Alexander said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

“I rethink every single one of my decisions every day of my life, every thing that could have happened differently. I wonder if it would have led to us serving a bitter, arrogant King, or if it would have made our own life here more certain. But, even with all the time spent on such things, those thoughts aren’t what leave their scars.”

“What are you saying?” Alexander asked.

The sir was gone, but Alexander was still tense. George tapped his fingers on his cheek. “You’re my regret. The single thing that won’t leave me.”

Alexander’s mouth dropped open, and he closed it. He shifted forward in his seat, closer to George. “I’m right here, what could you possibly regret?”

George laughed, unable to stop it from happening. It wasn’t a happy sound. “I never told you, Alexander. We’ve gone all these years with it there, always there, when we’re together. And yet, it’s never come up.”

Alexander shook his head. “No.”

“Yes. I,” George swallowed, “I never told you that I-”

“No.” Alexander raised a hand between them. “It’s been too long. I told myself that things changed after the war, you don’t get to tell me that they didn’t.”

He reached up for Alexander’s hand, marveling at how their fingers still fit together so well. “Yes, I do. And you, my boy, are going to listen.” 

It had been so long since he’d the endearment slip out where Alexander could hear, but it felt right. Alexander’s eyes became shiny, and George’s heart panged in his chest. He took in a breath, eyes not leaving Alexander’s face. “I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. You’re my regret - my one, single regret - because I never told you.”

“But now you are,” Alexander whispered. 

He nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Alexander’s lip trembled for a single second before teeth clamped down on it. Alexander shook his head. “It’s too late, George. Even a year ago, you might have still had me. But now? Now you’re leaving, and we’re going our separate ways for perhaps the last time, my love.”

“Alex-”

Alexander pulled his hand away. “Good-bye, George.”


	51. Don't you think you can fall back in love with me?

Seeing Alexander again was like being doused with cold water - unwanted, unpleasant, and not something shaken off with ease. Alexander gave him the shortest of glances.

It should have been simple to get the opportunity to be alone with Alexander, but George knew very well that what should be was not always the same as what was. It was chance it had happened at all, but George knew better than to go against fate. 

He had turned a corner and had run into none other than Alexander - the same man who had been occupying his every thought for weeks. George didn’t think before he reacting, placing his hand on Alexander’s shoulder and guiding him to a nearby empty room. Alexander was stiff under his hand, but he could suffer through slight discomfort. He needed this.

George shut the door behind him and bowed his head, needing Alexander to say the first word. It had been him who had sent Alexander away, a dismissal and an envelope shoved into his young lover’s hand. 

It could have been an hour that was spent in silence, but George new better than to move. He didn’t look up, but he could feel the weight of Alexander’s eyes on him. There was a creak on the floorboards, and delicate fingers hooked under his chin and forced him to look up.

Alexander’s eyes were narrowed, furious. “You dare.”

George said nothing.

“You bring me in here, knowing very well that if I wanted to speak to you I would have, and yet you go out of your way to trap me with no way out. What for, sir?” Alexander spit the last word out and George winced.

He took in a breath. “I need to see you.”

“You’ve seen me.”

George swallowed. “I needed to speak with you, to know. I need to know you, now that time has passed.’

Alexander’s eyes hardened. “You don’t deserve that.”

He closed his eyes. “No, I don’t,” he admitted. “But I need it anyway.”

“Fine,” Alexander spat out. The hand disappeared from his chin, and Alexander stepped away, heels clicking on the wood as he started to pace across the floor. “Fine. You broke my heart, sir. I had told myself I knew better than to expect romancing, and yet my heart didn’t listen. Betsey has soothed the ache, of course, but it’s not the same. I loved you, so much. And yet with a cold look and a turn of your heel, you managed to make that go away. Something that had filled every inch of my being for so long, suddenly gone. Do you know what that feels like?” Alexander was screaming by the end of it, hands clenched tight as his side.

George ran a hand down his face. “I might have an idea,” he said, voice low, not mean for Alexander to hear.

“An idea?” Alexander stepped closer. “You might have an idea what it’s like to have your heart ripped out by the man you had idolized and devoted so much to for so long? You might have an idea of what it’s like to go years without a word, clinging on the hope that it was just a misunderstanding, and have that hope fade away when you hear nothing?”

“Yes!” George stepped forward. “I do! But I suppose that doesn’t matter!” his chest was heaving. “You won’t listen anyway, so strong are your own beliefs.” He laughed. “I always admired that about you, you know, But what I admire doesn’t matter, I just have a question for you.”

“And what is that question?”

“Do you still love me?” George had wanted the strength provided by his anger to carry through, but it didn’t - he sounded weak, like a child.

Alexander laughed. “Do I still love you?” he mocked. “After what you did? No.”

George felt his eyes burn with tears. He blinked them away, and reached a hand forward to clutch in Alexander’s jacket, close enough for the first time in years. He almost sobbed - so close, but the look on Alexander’s face told him that miles might as well have separated them. “Do you think you could again? Love me? Again?”

“That’s a second question, sir.”

His grip tightened. “Please.”

“No,” Alexander sneered. “Now, I really must get going. Good day, sir.”


	52. You're mine now

The hand was tight around the back of his neck, and Alexander froze, voice cutting off mid-sentence. Washington looked down at him and quirked a brow. “No need to stop on my account.”

He nodded and looked back to Jefferson. “So, like I was saying, while I understand that it might initially appear to be doing more harm than good, I assure you that in the long run the budget changes will reap only benefit for the company.”

Jefferson gave him a weird look and scoffed, “oh really? Is that what you call it? People are losing their jobs, Hamilton.”

“No, they’re not! Working remotely is not the same as not having a job!”

Jefferson stepped closer and crossed his arms. “We both know that some people - for very good reasons - don’t work well from home. They’ll never meet their quotas - they’ll be fired within three months.”

“Well, maybe-”

“Gentlemen,” Washington said. “I understand you have differing opinions, but the notice has already gone out. There’s no need to continue to argue about this.”

Jefferson nodded, still glaring at him. “Of course, sir.” 

Washington’s hand guided Alexander down the hallway, and they left Jefferson standing alone. Washington’s strides were long and he walked faster to keep up. He peeked up at Washington and found the man’s face settled into a scowl.

Tilghman nodded at them as they walked into Washington’s office, and Alexander found himself backed against the door, Washington’s free hand pressed against the wood next to his face. 

He could feel the heat of Washinton’s breath on his face and his heart beating in his chest. Washington’s eyes were narrowed, intense, as they took him in. Washington stepped forward until there was no space between them and said, “I noticed how Jefferson kept looking at you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

Washington chuckled. “Oh yes, you do. You love it, don’t you? Knowing how much he lusts after you, how much he hates you for it.”

Alexander swallowed. “Sir.”

“He doesn’t know he can’t have you, that makes is so much sweeter, doesn’t it?” 

He said nothing.

Washington leaned down and mouthed along the skin of his neck. “He doesn’t know you’re mine now, that you belong only to me.”

Alexander gasped and sucked in a lungful of air. He nodded. “Only you, sir.”


	53. I might have had a few shots.

The walls spun around him, and Alex took a careful step forward, hands out to his sides. The door was right there. He could make it. 

He hadn’t intended for this to happen. It was a work trip, of all things. John had brought him down to the hotel bar the chance to have a beer or two and unwind. Two beers had turned to four had turned to rounds of tequila shots after Lafayette and Jefferson joined them.

He rested his forehead against the door and reached for his keycard. It would be fine. Alex took in a breath and inserted the card, watched as it blinked red. He frowned and tried again. Still red.

Before he could try a third time the door opened, and Alex feel forward and was caught by large hands on his shoulders. 

“Is everything alright?” A familiar voice asked. 

Alex looked up and blinked. It was Washington, looking down at him with concerned eyes. He swallowed and tried to stand up to pull away. Washington didn’t let him go. Alex swallowed around his suddenly too-large tongue and said, “I’m fine.”

“Are you drunk?”

He shook his head, and Washington’s face feel out of focus for a moment. He let out a sigh. “I m-might have had a few shots.”

Washington chuckled. “I thought so, come on.”

Alex was pulled forward and the door shut behind him with a heavy thud. He got his own footing and followed Washington into the room - an average room, king bed sitting in the middle. “I’m sorry. I meant, meant to g’to my own.”

“You’re right next door,” Washington said. “It’s an easy mistake.”

He was guided to sit on the bed, and a bottle of water was shoved into his hand. Alex didn’t open it. “I should go back.”

“We’ll get some water in you first.” Washington took the bottle back out of his hand and unscrewed the cap. He offered it back, “here, at least drink a little.”

Alex raised it to his lips and took a long sip. His eyes roamed down Washington’s body, the usual restraint no longer there. Washington was wearing a solid blue t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. How he managed to make even that look good was a mystery. 

Alex handed the now half-empty water bottle back to Washington and said, “must’ve been thirstier than I thought.” In more than one way.

Washington shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Alright, now off to bed with you. We can forget this happened in the morning.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Alex stretched his arms above his head and they fell next to him with a plop on the hotel comforter. “Take me to bed, George.”

“Hamilton.”

“Yes?” He looked up at Washington and bit his lip.

“We’re going to pretend you never said that.” Washington grabbed his hands and pulled him to a standing position. “Let’s go.”

Alex nodded and leaned into Washington’s side. It was a short walk to his room, and Washington grabbed the keycard that was still gripped in his hand to unlock the door. 

The walls were spinning less quickly now, and he fell onto his own bed at Washington’s urging. John wasn’t back yet, judging by the empty other half of the room. 

He watched as Washington set a bottle of water on the side-table. Alex said, “Night night.”

Washington smiled, and after a moment of hesitation, leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Good night, Alexander.”


	54. I’m going to keep you safe.

George pulled Alexander into his lap and pressed a kiss to the top of Alexander’s hair, taking in a deep breath. 

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered into Alexander’s hair. He wrapped his arms around Alexander even tighter, doing whatever he could to bring his boy closer to him. “It felt like everything was taken from me, there was no more reason to live without you here.” His next breath was audible, a shuddering sound. “There’s death and suffering everywhere I look, you’re my only source of light in this war.”

Alexander reached for his hand and squeezed tight. “I’m alive, and that’s what matters.”

George looked down to the bandages covering Alexander’s legs - wounds received after wading in the river. “But you almost weren’t.”

“That’s what happens, love.” Alexander pulled away to look up at him, eyes wide. Alexander brought his hand up to press a kiss to it. “It’s war.”

He closed his eyes, feeling them water. “I’m going to keep you safe.”

A hand rand down the side of his face and cupped his jaw. George opened his eyes. Alexander shook his head and said, “you can’t, George.”

“Yes,” he breathed out. “I can and I will.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t let you.”

It was a familiar light in Alexander’s eyes - a stubborn set to the much-loved features that George had thought to be gone forever. He sighed. “I know.”

Another kiss was pressed to his knuckles and Alexander said, “you’re still going to try, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” He leaned his head down to capture chapped lips in a kiss. “There is no way I’m surviving if I don’t. Life with you, my darling Alexander, is simply not worth living.”


	55. Don't leave me. Ever.

Alexander woke up with a start - chest heaving, and hand reaching out to the bed beside him. Something calmed in him when his hand melt the warm body he had been searching for. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on calming himself down.

George’s hand covered his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tight. “Alex,” George said, voice rough with sleep, “is everything okay?”

He opened his eyes and nodded, no difference made and motion not seen for how dark it was in the room. “Just a bad dream,” Alex said. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

Alex swallowed. He pressed down on George’s chest, feeling the man’s heartbeat under his hand. “As sure as I can be.”

“How can I help?” George asked. “I want to help, I want you to feel better. Safe. Sleep.” 

He bit on his lip, the sensation soothing in its own way. He squeezed George’s hand as tight as he could. “I need you to promise me something.” Alex bit down on the side of his tongue. “I don’t even care if it’s a lie, I just need to hear it.”

George rolled over, pressing his cheek to Alex’s thigh. “What do you need?”

“Don’t leave me,” Alex said. “Ever.” 

Fear filled his chest. It was so revealing, wasn’t it, to say something like that. Everyone had left him, and his mind still burned with the sound of his mother’s last words in his ear. Years had passed, and yet the ache had never gone away. He couldn’t lose George, for Alex was sure that might be the final straw that breaks him.

Silence. George pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “I promise.” Another kiss. “I love you with all of my heart, Alexander. I will never leave you if I have any say.”

Alexander swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I love you too.”

“Now,” George said. “Back to sleep.”


	56. You're confused, you think this is love but it isn't.

George sighed as he ran his hand through Alexander’s hair, the boy kneeling at his side, cheek pressed to his knee .It was a soothing motion, a favorite position of his when he needed to sit down and think, let his mind ruminate over recent events. Alexander’s eyes looked up at him, wide-open and trusting.

He thought back to the days before Alexander had fallen under his thrall - the biting criticisms fired at him when George expressed interest in the boy’s opinion. It had been a game they played - a game he missed. His fingers caught on a tangle, and Alexander gasped at the sharp pull.

George removed his hand from Alexander’s hair and placed his thumb on the lower lip of Alexander’s open mouth. He pressed down and Alexander’s tongue darted out.

He pulled away and leaned back in his chair, and Alexander whined up at him. George chuckled, and became all too aware of the slight burning dryness in his throat. He looked down at Alexander, eyes running over plump lips and smooth skin. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Are you up to a feeding?” he asked.

Alexander’s eyes grew dark. The boy nodded and said, “Always, sir.”

George spread his legs and patted his hands on his thighs, motioning for Alexander to come up on his lap. Arms settled on his shoulders and George pulled Alexander flush to him. Alexander tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck, and George nosed along the smooth skin, feeling the blood and life thrum.

He pressed a wet kiss to the pulse point and the boy moaned, leaning forward in anticipation of the bite.

With one hand tangled in Alexander’s hair and another on his boy’s hip, George opened his mouth and bit down, sweet blood flooding his mouth. Alexander’s high-pitched, gasping moans sounding off like music in his ears.

George pulled away after he got his fill, licking his lips and pressing another wet kiss to the bleeding wound,. Alexander melted against him, relaxed and sleepy from the combination of blood loss and endorphins from the bite.

Alexander sighed, face tucked against his neck. George took his hand from Alexander’s hair and rubbed it along his boy’s back, long motions meant to soothe. A familiar routine as he waited for Alexander to recover. Fresh blood flower through him, and George felt his cock start to stiffen against his thigh.

Soft lips fluttered against his jaw and Alexander breathed out a quiet, “I love you.”

George chuckled and shook his head and said, “no, you don’t.” He lifted his head to cup and squeeze the back of Alexander’s neck. “You’re confused, pet.”

“No,” Alexander said, rolling his hips,. “My mind is quite clear and I know that I love you, and,” Alexander’s hand came up to play at the fabric of his cravat, “that I would love to feel all of you.”

He squeezed Alexander’s hip and pushed his own forward, seeking friction.

“You think this is love,” George said.

“I know this is love.” Alexander pulled his head back to look George in the eyes. “As well as I know how fast you make my heart beat.” 

It was fear. Natural instinct that humanity had long ago forgotten how to recognize.

George captured Alexander’s lips in a kiss, biting down on the boy’s lower lip as he pulled away. The connection between them was strong, the effects of his thrall visible in the glaze over Alexander’s eyes.

“This isn’t love, pet,” George said, before leaning forward to taste Alexander’s lips again.


	57. What's that? You were just kidding. You love me!

George hooked his finger under Alexander’s chin and tilted the boy’s head up. Alexander’s eyes were narrowed, burning bright with some kind of feeling George couldn’t find it in himself to name.

He pressed his thumb to Alexander’s pursed lips and said, “so much around us has changed, and yet you’re still here. You’re my constant,” George smiled, a soft expression almost unrecognizable on his stern features. “The one person who will never leave.”

Someone coughed. The smile dropped from George’s face as he looked up. It was Adams, wearing his usual pinched expression. Adams had requested an audience. George pulled his hand away from Alexander’s face and leaned back in his throne. His fingers tapped out a steady pattern on the arm, and he nodded at Adams to speak.

Adams cleared his throat and said, “your Majesty, I’m-”

George cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. He pointed his finger down and said, “bow before you speak.”

“Of course,” Adams said, dropping into a lower than necessary bow. “I apologize, your Majesty.”

“Apology accepted.”

Adams nodded. “Thank you, your Majesty. I’ve requested an audience with you to express some concerns-”

“Have you gone through the proper channels?” George asked.

“Well, of course,” Adams said, bobbing his head. Adams wrung his hands together and continued, “some people have expressed concern with your inaccessibility, your Majesty.”

George chuckled. Adams was one of the few who had managed to stick around, too occupied with his own wife to become a nuisance. He spread his arms out in a mockery of a welcoming gesture. “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

Adams was a coward - shrinking back into himself instead of taking what could very well be his final opportunity to make his point. “You’re right,” Adams said. “As always, your Majesty.”

He decided to prod. “If they’re so obviously incorrect,” he said. “Why do the concerns exist?”

Adams swallowed. “You’re Majesty, it’s simply that it took even me over a month to get this audience.” Adams’ shoulders straightened, the man finding some sort of courage in what he was about to say. “The government has had to learn how to run without you for how difficult it is to involve you in an decisions! You’ve become nothing more than a figure head!” 

“How dare you!” George said, voice filling the room. “I am the King, and I will not be disrespected in this manner!” He stood up, stalking forward. Adams was frozen in his spot, face paling with fear.

“I-I-I mean no disrespect, your Majesty,” Adams said, almost inaudible. “I swear, I just thought you needed to know.”

He took another step forward and felt a familiar rage fill him as Adams’ eyes widened. The man was weak - shrinking into himself. A coward, not a fighter. 

“Get out,” George spat. “You disgust me.”

Adams dropped into another bow as he scampered out, the door slamming shut behind him.

The breath rushed out of his chest when George turned around and saw Alexander waiting for him, kneeling on the ground with the same light in his eyes as always. The gentle smile returned to his face.

“You’re still here for me,” he said, cupping Alexander’s cheek with his hand. “I love you, so much.”

Alexander’s responding smile wasn’t soft, wasn’t the honey-sweet grin George looked forward to seeing. It was sharp, figurative blood dripping from the corners of it. Alexander pressed into his hand and said, “I hate you. You know that, right? I despise you with every ounce of my being.”

“What?” What had been a gentle relaxation was now a punch to the gut as Alexander’s words settled in. “What’s that?” he asked. George shook his head, “no, you don’t mean that.” He rubbed his thumb over Alexander’s cheekbone. “Adams has gotten to you, that’s all, love.”

Alexander shook his head, smile becoming more delicate but no less sharp - a dagger waiting in the dark for the right moment to strike. “There is no good in you anymore, George Washington. I might have loved you once - it might have just been a delusion. But now?” Alexander pressed a kiss to the King’s palm and said, voice pointed, “you disgust me.”

“No.” George dropped to his knees, getting closer to Alexander, pressed a gentle kiss to his boy’s forehead. “You’re just joking. You love me.” Another kiss, this time to Alexander’s temple. “I know you do.”

A harsh laugh filled George’s ears and his blood ran cold, even as he held Alexander close to his chest. “You love me,” he whispered into Alexander’s hair. “You love me, you love me, you love me.”


	58. I've never been more certain of anything ever.

Alexander reached up to push a piece of hair falling out of its braid behind George’s ear. He smiled up at George, running his thumb over the high point of George’s cheek. “Are you certain about this?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything ever,” George said, and then leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

It was beyond selfish, what they were doing. Alexander wrapped an arm around George’s waist and rested his cheek against George’s chest. “I’m not worth the fate of this country, love.”

“You’re worth whatever I say you’re worth,” George whispered into his hair, squeezing him tight. “I almost lost you.”

“People die every day.” Alexander swallowed around the lump in his throat. “So many people are going to die if we do this.”

George shook his head. “They’ll find another figure-head.”

“We’re going to be living a lie for the rest of our lives. If anyone gets so much as an inkling of who were are - who you are it’ll all be over.” He pulled back to look up at George and continued, “if they win we’ll be deserters and cowards. If they lose, we’ll be the reason why.”

George pressed a kiss to his lips and said, “it’ll be worth it if it means a lifetime with you.”

“Have you thought about this?” he asked. “Really thought about what’s going to happen if we just sneak off in the middle of the night and leave them to fend for themselves?”

“Yes, I have.” George nodded and smiled - sad, almost distant. It was the resolution in George’s eyes that made Alexander believe him. “Are you having doubts?” George asked.

He looked to the side, and George’s hand came up to cup the side of his neck. “I”m not sure,” Alexander whispered. He looked back up at George. “But I”m going it. A lifetime with you - no matter how different from what I’ve imagined for myself - is worth it.”

George kissed him again before stepping away and picking up their prepared packs. It was seeing George out of uniform - in the clothing of the average man he was going to pretend to be - that cemented the reality of what was happening more than anything else.

Their horses were packed and ready for them - everything they’d need to start this new branch of the rest of their lives.

The wind was cold on their cheeks and the camp was far behind them by the time Alexander’s chest panged with something that might be regret, but by then, it was too late.


	59. you are the warmest house I will ever, ever find

The cold wind howled outside their window, and Alexander tucked his face closer to George’s neck, breathing in the familiar, warm scent.

George’s arm tightened around him. “One day,” George said. “I’ll have you in my arms, just like this. We’ll be tucked into bed with a blazing fire keeping us warm. It’ll be just us, hidden away in some small cabin, the worries of the world miles and miles away.”

Alexander pulled away and looked up at George. He lifted a hand to trace his finger over the plane of George’s face. He hummed and said, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hiding from the world with only the other for company. No one to to pretend for, just us with our truth.”

“Yes.” George grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to each of the tips of his fingers. “Every day could be our last, this war feels endless, and who knows what is on the other side of the morning? In our small cabin we could go to bed each night in each other’s arms knowing we’d wake up the same way.” He breathed out. “There’d be no sneaking about, no forced silence to keep hidden.”

Alexander settled his cheek on George’s shoulder and drew a pattern on the bare skin of George’s chest. “We could run away to our cabin in the woods,” he said. “There is nothing in the way, not really. We could go on a mission and never return.”

George chuckled and said, “there are days where I feel moments away from doing that.”

“We wouldn’t make it,” Alexander said. “We’d be ready, we’d have our cabin. The first night would be perfect. But the second? The second we’d keep looking toward the woods, wondering how the army was faring without us there. And the third? We’d struggle asleep, and then we’d return, saying the mission was a failure and was cut short due to misinformation.”

George was silent. The only sounds were their breaths, the crackling of the fire, and the slow slide of George’s hand going up and down his back in a soothing motion. “You’re right, as you normally are.”

Alexander smiled and pressed a kiss to George’s shoulder. “Of course.”

“But I still want to give you a warm home.” George looked at him, eyes beaming with affection. “When we make it through this war, I want to see you loved and taken care of, I want to do that for you. Please, let me do that for you.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Alexander said, shaking his head. “Nothing you can give me will matter, so you might as well give me nothing. Because it is you who I want. You are my warm home, the warmest home I will ever find.”


	60. I Made This For You

Alex opened the oven and got a burst of hot air in his face. He waved his hand and sputtered as he collected himself. He bent back down, oven mitts covering his hands, and pulled the tray from the oven. He closed the door with a coordinated combination of his foot and hip and set the cookie tray down to admire his handiwork. He sighed. The cookies were all burnt and too thing, spread out and running into each other.

He turned to look at Eliza - sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping a steaming mug of tea - and asked, “why am I doing this again?”

Eliza giggled. She set the mug down and leaned further over the counter and sad, “because you’re not allowed to go to work today and you decided to give the house-husband thing a try since you don’t know what the word relax means.”

Alex gestured his arm in the direction of the crock pot sitting on the corner of the counter. “At least I have dinner,” he said. 

“Anyone can throw a bunch of stuff into a crock pot and call it a meal.” Eliza looked back down at her mug. “Baking is the true test,” she said.

He put his hands on his hips, and spun around the kitchen, thinking. “Alright,” he started. “So, cookies are a bust. There’s other things Brownies? Cake? Tarts?”

Eliza snorted. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a tart recipe when you can’t even make chocolate chip cookies, you’re wrong.”

“We can’t all be champion bakers, Betsey!” Alex went to look at the still open cookbook, covered in a thin layer of flour, bits of egg and butter dripped around. “Alright, so no tarts. Sugar cookies? George likes sugar cookies.” He turned to the index in the back of the book and looked at the different names. “Gingerbread?” he muttered. “Oatmeal? Crinkle? Peanut butter? Thumbprint? What even are some of these.”

Alex heard the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, and soon Eliza was standing at his side. She took the book out of his hands and set it on a clean area of the counter. “Alex,” she said. “George is going to be amused and touched by the sentiment more than anything else.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Eliza said, shaking her head. “Besides, cookies are for christmas. A proper housewife - or husband - greets their spouse with a cocktail. My mom used to tell me how when she was little, right before her dad came home, she would spritz on some chanel number 5, make two martinis, and greet him at the door with a kiss.”

He snorted. “I think your grandfather might have been an alcoholic.”

“That might be so.” Eliza patted his shoulder. “But you’re trying to set a scene. You might not have chanel, but go clean yourself up. George’ll drink an old-fashioned, right?”

Alex nodded.

“Good,” Eliza said. She pushed him in the direction of the bedroom. “Go make yourself pretty, I’ll take care of the kitchen.”

He rinsed off his face, brushed his hair, and changed into a nice pair of jeans and a shirt that George always liked him in. Alex turned around and examined himself in the mirror one more time, making sure the cut of the denim flattered him the way he wanted and that his hair was in place. Much butter. He nodded to himself and went into the kitchen.

What had been a disaster now looked like it belonged in a magazine. There was no sign of his failed attempts at baking, and the kitchen smelled like a home cooked meal - something George had mentioned missing with how busy they both were. Alex turned to Eliza and said. “Thank you.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled up at him. “You clean up nice.” 

Alex snorted. “That’s not new.”

“Oh dear,” she said. Eliza grabbed his elbow and dragged him closer. “Now, let’s make your man a drink, and I’ll get out of your hair before he comes home.” Alex looked over at the clock - George was due home soon. Perfect timing. 

Eliza left with a kiss to his cheek, and soon Alex was stuck pacing the kitchen. 

It wasn’t too long before he heard the sound of a key in the lock, and Alex was overcome with a sudden anxiety. There was no reason to be nervous, he had known George for years, at the very worst George would laugh it off. At the best, well, Alex might find himself making this a habit.

The door opened, and Alex rushed to reach for the glass, and let the automatic smile cross his face when George turned the corner. 

George’s eyes widened when he took the scene in, but he walked toward Alex, his face brightening with each step. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Uh–” Alex shoved the glass into George’s hand– “I made this for you.”

“Really?” George raised a brow and took a sip before setting the glass down. “Thank you, but might I ask what’s the occasion?” 

“I made dinner?” Alex said. “I tried to make cookies, but that didn’t work out so well.”

George took a step closer and placed his hands on Alex’s hips, and bent his head down to press a kiss to Alex’s forehead. “You made dinner?” he asked. “Why?”

Alex looked up at George. “I felt like it.”

George’s smile widened before he bent down to press a kiss to Alex’s lips. “You’re great, you know,” he said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I wanted to,” Alex said. “It was kind of nice, you know.”

“Nice enough to become a full-time house husband?”

Alex laughed and shook his head. “Oh god no,” he said. “Maybe once in a while though.”

George chuckled and hugged him tight. “That’s what I thought,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of Alex’s head. “I love you.”


	61. Don't pretend I acted alone on this, it takes two to tango.

Alex looked up at the sound of his office door opening, the distinct squeak of the hinge that maintenance had never gotten around to fixing.

It was George - the same man who had been avoiding him for weeks. They never saw much of each other at work - but texts and emails and calls had all gone ignored.

He watched as George shut the door. George appeared to take a breath in before turning around to face him. “I figured I’d find you here.”

“Where else would I be?” Alex asked.

George sighed and walked forward to sit on the edge of the couch he was lying on. “At home?” George offered.

Alex snorted. “It’s funny because if it were up to Eliza I would be. It’s the kids who kicked me out.”

“It’s your own fault, Alexander.”

He shook his head and sat up to be closer to George and said, “nope, you don’t get to pull that shit. Don’t pretend I acted alone on this, it takes two to tango.”

George didn’t look at him. “I don’t have a wife and children at home.”

“I won’t deny that I was very willing, but it was you who touched me first,” Alex said. “You’re the one who called me to your office - not even at a conference or some other event where we could blame a glass of wine and jetlag - under the flimsiest of pretenses.”

“You’re quite irresistible, Alexander.”

He laid a hand on George’s thigh. “Am I now?”

George shook his head. “We cant.”

Alex slid his hand higher and leaned closer, the smell of George’s cologne filling his nose. “Can’t?” he asked. “Or don’t want to acknowledge the role you played? It’s a bit different with the consequences so plain like this, isn’t it? Denial was the last thing I expected for you, of all people.”

“This could risk us our jobs,” George said, turning to look at him and leaning closer.

Alex chuckled. “We’ve known that from the beginning.” He bit his lip. George’s eyes dropped to stare at his mouth. He leaned closer and tilted his chin up, his breath ghosting over George’s lips. “Are you saying I’m not longer irresistible, George?”

“Not at all,” George groaned, hand going to Alex’s hair and bringing their mouths together. He pulled away. “I want you too much for my own good.”


	62. I can be a good boy for you

Alex was pressed against the back of the door, George’s hands holding his wrists to either side of his head against the wood. He whimpered, and George pressed harder. “You made me a promise, Alexander,” George said, voice low.

“Yes, sir,” Alex said. “I did.”

“And did you keep that promise?”

Alex shook his head. “No sir.”

“And what did you tell me before we left?” George asked. “What did you say you could do? Word for word, if you please.”

“I said,” Alex started. He swallowed. “I said that I can be a good boy for you.”

“Yes, you did.” George chuckled. “But you weren’t. You didn’t keep your promise. What did you do, Alexander?”

“I snuck into the bathroom and got myself off,” Alex whispered. It had been so good, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to touch himself, he was supposed to wait for George. But the plug had felt too good and George wasn’t looking at him and he had been staring at George’s figure accentuated by his tailored suit all night and it had been too much. “I’m sorry, sir.”

George hummed. “I’m sure you are,” he said. He let go of Alex’s wrists. “On your knees.”

Alex dropped to his knees, his hands resting flat on his thighs, and bowed his head. George always liked him like this. 

George hand went into his hair and pulled his head back, the sharp sensation going straight to his cock and making him moan. “You don’t get to touch yourself until I say,” George said. “And this time you’re going to listen. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Alex said. He let out a whine when George tugged on his hair again.

“You’re going to suck my dick like the good boy you’re supposed to be, and afterward you’re going to straight to bed, strip, and get on your hands and knees and wait for me. I’m not going to repeat myself. Is that clear?” George asked.

Alex nodded, his mouth watering already. George was hard, the front of his trousers tented. 

“Color?” George asked.

“Green.”


	63. Whamilton with an abo plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by/continuation of To Have And To Hold

Alexander wasn’t sure what had surprised people more: that he was an omega or that he had left Washington’s tent reeking of the alpha. He had been claimed by the General, and there was no hiding it.

It helped that George put him to work the same as the other men. He was given the same tasks - more difficult ones in a greater number even - but Alexander had the feeling that it would take a miracle to get him to be anything close to accepted let alone respected.

He was alone with George, the others going off to their separate duties. Alexander cleared his throat and said, “I’ve fought before, you know.”

“No,” George shot back, shaking his head, tone tired. “Absolutely not.”

Alexander took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I can and I will.” George dipped his pen into the ink. “You will only be sent out if you are the last man in camp, and even then it will be debatable.”

Alexander inhaled a sharp breath. They’ve had this argument time and time again, it felt like going through the motions now. “George!” he said, voice ringing clear through the air. “I might be your omega, your mate, but I am still a soldier in this army!”

“I can’t, Alexander,” George said, looking up at him. “I can’t. It’s hard enough leaving you - I didn’t know it would be this hard. But possibly sending you out to your death? I cannot.” George sighed. “I am physically unable.”

“Oh yes,” Alexander said. “Your alpha instincts are simply too much to ignore when faced with the decision of sending a soldier - a very good one, I might add - to battle.”

George’s eyes narrowed.

Alexander stepped closer, feeling the familiar anger flood through him. There were only so many times they could talk about this before George started to shut him down, and he had a hunch that this could be his last chance. “You brought me here before you even knew I was an omega. You brought me here because I had something that made you want me on your staff. Part of that something was my role as a soldier - you can’t deny that.”

“And that was before I even knew what you were,” George said. “You said it yourself. Things change, Alexander.”

“I don’t want to be locked up like a princess in a tall tower George!” Alexander said, voice rising. “I didn’t ask for this! I came to the war to fight! I’m only here because of you! Let me fight!”

“Alexander,” George growled, a low tone that had him wanting to tilt his head to the side and let the alpha redarken the bonding mark on his neck. “I am not sending you out to die and that is final!”

“You wouldn’t be sending me-”

“No!” George said. “If you bring this up again, you will not like the consequences. You might be a soldier now, but it is within my rights to take that from you. I could easily reduce you to the bedwarmer you so desperately want to avoid being.”

A shock of ice shot through Alexander. “No,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t.”

George stood up - a slow, careful motion - and walked around his desk to stand in front of Alexander. He raised a hand and cupped the side of Alexander’s neck, thumb brushing over the mark. Sparks radiated from the touch, and Alexander melted into it. George pressed a kiss to his forehead and said, “You’re right. I wouldn’t, because I know how much you’d hate me for it.”

“But-”

“But I could,” George said. “I could, and no one would breathe a word against it.”

He was right, of course. Alexander sighed. He lifted his hand and grabbed a fistful of George’s coat and leaned forward, inhaling his alpha’s scent. It was grounding, steadying in a way that had Alexander fearing for the day he didn’t have it. “My heat should be soon.”

George tensed. “Oh?”

Alexander nodded. “I don’t know when, but it should’t be too long now. It was a flash heat before, but this one will be a full heat.”

George wrapped an arm around his waist and said, “I see. We’ll have to plan for that, I’ll make arrangements for-”

“Your Excellency-”

It was John Laurens, standing in the open doorway, hand still resting on the handle. 

Laurens shot Alexander a dark look - judgmental, no hint of kindness - and cleared his throat. “I knocked,” he continued. “But I see you are occupied. I’ll come back, and make sure I properly announce myself.”

The door shut behind Laurens, and George stepped away. “Go back to work, Alexander. Send Laurens in.”

He nodded and straightened his jacket.

Laurens was waiting outside the door, arms crossed over his chest. “So, omega,” he spit out. “I’m so sorry to interrupt to precious time with your dearest alpha, but I’m afraid the war going on takes precedence over the General’s knot.”

The anger returned, and Alexander curled his hands into fists. “Oh trust me, Colonel Laurens, I am very much aware of the war. And know I tell the truth when I say that you don’t know the half of it,” he said. “The General will see you now.”


	64. You have a lot of nerve saying ‘Hello’ like nothing happened.

Had it been any other day, Alex might have been able to let it go. He’d go to bed wondering what it’d be like to have George’s hands on him again, but he’d be able to let it go. But it wasn’t any other day, and he hadn’t slept in over twenty hours and he was tired. The entire week had been hectic, and the last person he expected to find himself standing next to in the subway on a Friday night was George Washington. 

What the man was doing on a subway at all, Alex didn’t know.

He got a sick pleasure out of watching George’s eyes widen in recognition, though George quickly regained his composure. “Hello,” he breathed out, looking down at Alex as if he was waiting for Alex to jump at him.

Alex was silent for a moment, taking the time to breath in and out. “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘Hello’ like nothing happened,” he said. 

It wasn’t that they had a messy breakup - they didn’t - their lifestyles weren’t compatible, their goals didn’t match. They drifted, and somehow that was worse. But, for George to give such a simple greeting as if they had never meant anything to each other? He didn’t have the patience for it. 

George swallowed and nodded. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said. “You look tired.”

Alex snorted. “I wonder why.” He looked George up and down - fitted suit, the same flattering style that had Alex longing to peel off the layers and touch the smooth skin hidden underneath. 

George sighed. “How have you been, Alexander?”

It was always Alexander. “I’ve been good,” he said. “Working.” George hadn’t understood why he worked the way he did, didn’t feel the same sense of urgency. 

“Of course,” George said, nodding. “Are you headed home then? It’s rather late.” The small talk was painful.

“It is,” Alex agreed. “And I am. What about you? What are you doing? You hate public transportation.” 

George looked away from him, Alex caught the barest something flash in the man’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” George said. The tension was still there. It had been over a year and yet Alex found himself wanting to lean into George’s warmth and comfort as if it hadn’t even been a full day since they had seen each other.

“Alright,” Alex said. There were so many things he could say, and it could very well be his last chance to say them. George’s number was still saved in his phone, but Alex could never quite bring himself to use it. “My stop’s soon.”

George nodded. It was odd, how close they were. They didn’t need to be so close. It was a magnetic pull, for Alex had no other explanation why he was now almost fully pressed against George’s front when there had been several inches between them before. George made no move to push him away.

Alex expected George to stay silent - the man had never been the best with words - and let any emotions he still harbored be seen only in his eyes. Instead, George reached for Alex’s hand with the lightest touch and whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

Were he not so tired, Alex might have stared George down until his stop was called. But he was tired, and so the words leapt from his tongue before he could stop them, “I’ve missed you too.” And he had. Alex had long ago resigned George to being that one that got away - the only person that Alex had wanted to have it work. 

George brought Alex’s hand to his mouth and pressed a light kiss to Alex’s knuckles. “This is presumptuous of me,” he said. “But, would you like to get a drink?” 

Alex smiled. “I would.”


	65. Get out and don’t come back.

Alex had gone into work for the morning, had said he needed to finish up some project or another. George had sighed, but pressed a kiss to Alex’s forehead and sent him off with a to-go cup of coffee, a packed sandwich, and a reminder to not get too caught up in his work.

The apartment always seemed too quiet when Alex wasn’t there - the sound of muttering and fingers flying across a keyboard absent. Alex’s voice had the tendency to lodge itself in George’s head, and without it everything seemed too still. 

He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, taking a sip and staring out over the kitchen and living room. It wasn’t messy, but it was about due for a cleaning. 

The music blared as he went through the apartment - starting in the kitchen, moving through the living room. George opened the window to help get rid of the scent of chemicals, and focused on the motions of mopping and vacuuming and dusting. 

They used the second bedroom as an office - both of theirs in name, but Alex’s in practice. George rolled his shoulders as he crossed the threshold, eyeing the stacks of paper and books lying everywhere. They had gotten bookshelves about a year ago, but Alex had the tendency of pacing and dropping whatever was in his hands on the closest flat surface and forgetting about it until he needed it again.

George sighed and took a step forward, knowing that organizing this was going to take just as long as the rest of the apartment. Alex would be back soon, and George was sure he’d find himself distracted from chores, and he wasn’t going to put up a fight.

He grabbed the book from the corner of the desk and turned toward the shelf, dancing with the music still playing. George chuckled to himself as he pictured Alex laughing at him, eyes crinkling. 

From the other room, he heard the door open. George perked up, and walked out of the office into the living room, prepared to defend his music choice for when Alex decided to comment on it, and he always commented on it.

George heard keys clink on the countertop, a rustle of fabric, and a voice call out, “hey, I know you don’t like me here but we need to talk.”

It wasn’t Alex. 

George turned the corner and crossed his arms over his chest, suspicion rising by the second. He raised a brow and asked, “and who are you?”

The young man in front of him blinked, surprised, but something dark brewing in the back of his eyes. “Uh…..what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” George bit out, taking a step closer, bad feeling growing. 

“No,” the man said. “Alex lives here.”

George nodded. “And I live with Alex.”

The man’s eyes narrowed and he asked, “who are you?”

“George Washington,” George said. “Alex’s husband.”

“Shit.”

The music was still playing in the background, the cheerful pop clashing with the rising tension. 

“Why are you here?” George asked, praying and hoping that this was all a strange mix-up, and that the his building dread was for nothing.

“I’m here to see Alex,” the man said as if it were obvious.

George nodded. After a moment, he took a step back and gestured toward the chairs at the breakfast bar. “Sit down,” he said, tone leaving no room for argument. “Alex is due home soon.”

The man swallowed, but did as directed. He was tense, eyes flicking toward the hallway.

“What’s your name?” George asked. Maybe it was an old friend that Alex didn’t tell him was in town, an estranged relative. Something that would explain why the man had keys to the apartment. 

“John,” the man said. “John Laurens.”

George inhaled a sharp breath, but turned to the fridge. “John Laurens,” he said. The name of Alex’s college boyfriend - the same John Laurens that Alex once described as the one that got away after drinking too much wine after dinner. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“What?”

He took in another breath, chest burning hot, and turned to face John. “Get out and never come back.”

“But-”

George held up a hand. “You heard me. I’m going to tell Alex you stopped by, I’m going to have a very long talk with my husband, and hopefully I’m never going to see your face again.” 

It wasn’t even John he was angry at, thought that was a fair share of it, but Alex. Alex who had been keeping in contact with an ex-boyfriend, and hadn’t saw it fit to tell him - not even a mention.

“You can’t just kick me out!” 

“I can and I am.” George reiterated his point by walking around and pulling John’s chair out. “Leave.”

John looked at him, offense obvious, but he must have seen something in George’s face because he stood up and went to leave. “You know,” John said, back to George. “You’re not going to like what Alex has to say.” 

George clenched his teeth together but managed to get out, “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

The door shut behind John Laurens, and George slammed his fist onto the counter. The cheerful music was still playing, and his eyes were burning. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.


	66. Capricorn: s&m, power exchange, desire for authority

“Sir,” Alexander said, walking in and closing the door behind him. “You sent for me?”

It was rare that Washington had to send for Alexander, so often the boy was at his side. 

Washington nodded. He shuffled the papers he was reading together and pushed them off to the side. He looked across the desk at Alexander, taking in the pieces of hair that had fallen out of the boy’s queue, the bright eyes and lips that were begging to be kissed. 

“I did,” Washington said after several moments. “There’s something you asked me for, something that I never gave you an answer for.”

Alexander’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Kneel,” Washington said, staying still in his own seat. “On your knees, Hamilton. Remain silent, hands behind your back.”

“Sir-”

“Silent,” Washington repeated.

Alexander did as he was told, eyes darkening and a flush rising to his cheeks. The boy licked his lips, anticipation brewing beneath the surface.

Washington had sent Alexander away when the boy had brought it up. Hadn’t known what to make of Alexander kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with hundreds of emotions shining through intelligent eyes, begging for more. Alexander had an entire argument prepared, and Washington had listened to the entire thing, unease and desire both rising within him.

In the end, he had sent Alexander away, but the thought hadn’t left him. 

Alexander wanted his control taken from him, and Washington was much too possessive a man to let anyone else be the one to do it.

He walked around the desk and stood in front of Alexander. “If anything, and I mean anything, makes you uncomfortable, you are going to tell me and I am going to stop immediately.”

Alexander opened his mouth to protest, but Washington cut him off.

“No exceptions. Is that clear?”

Alexander nodded.

“Strip,” Washington said. “I want your clothing folded, and then you’re going to bend over the desk.” 

Alexander licked his lips and started to do as directed. 

Washington watched as each inch of skin was revealed - skin he had gone over with his hands and lips dozens of times. He’d never get tired of it, he knew. 

Alexander bent over the desk, and any doubts Washington had about doing this were swept away at the sight of the bare skin of Alexander’s ass. Washington couldn’t put an exact word to what he was feeling, but there was something in him that wanted nothing more than to see the skin reddened, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

He stepped forward and ran his hand over Alexander’s back and stopped at the meeting of Alexander’s ass and thigh. He kept his hand still, resting, waiting. Alexander shifted his weight back, growing impatient.

Washington lifted his hand and brought it down with a sharp smack. Alexander’s gasp was music to his ears, and he felt his cock twitch. 

“Count,” he said.

“I thought you said to be silent,” Alexander shot back, tone smug.

Washington brought his hand down again. “Count.”

Alexander’s skin was red where Washington had hit, the slightest extra warmth under his hand. 

“Two,” Alexander whispered. 

“Very good,” Washington said, bringing his hand down again, same spot.

“Three.”


	67. You should quit your job. You know I could take care of you.

George tapped a heavy pattern on the arm of the chair, watching the clock as the seconds continued to tick by and Alexander still wasn’t home. 

Alexander had left that morning with a kiss to the corner of George’s mouth and a smile as he accepted the coffee George had poured for him. “I’ll be back early tonight,” he had said. “I promise. In time for dinner.”

“I look forward to it,” George had said, watching Alexander leave before he turned to pour his own cup and start his own day.

That had been over fifteen hours ago.

George held the tell-tale slide of a key in a lock and tensed, leaning forward in the chair as he watched the door open, slow enough for Alexander to poke his head through and see if the coast was clear.

Alexander didn’t flick on the lights when he shut the door behind him. He took the extra moment to lock the door, was quiet as he toed off his shoes and set them by the door. It was a practiced routine, and that more than anything had George seething.

He could tell the exact moment Alexander caught sight of him.

“Alexander,” he said, voice filled with so much more feeling than he had planned. “You made me a promise this morning”

“I got carried away,” Alexander said, collecting himself. “It happens, you know this. Don’t act like you’re surprised.”

“But you promised,” George said. He stood up, movement careful and measured. “You told me you would be home in time for dinner. I had an evening planned Alexander.” It was shocking just how cold his voice was, the iciness of it.

Alexander seemed shocked too, his expressive eyes going wide. “Why are you so angry?” he asked. “You know me.”

“I do,” George agreed. He took a step forward. “But I’ve also realized something.”

“And what have you realized, then?” Alexander asked, taunting. “Are you breaking up with me? Don’t think I care enough about you? Why would you be any different from anyone else?”

George shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to break up with you.”

“Then what is it?” Alexander asked, brow quirked.

George smiled, and judging by the flash in Alexander’s eyes, it wasn’t a kind one. “You should quit your job,” he said. “You know I could take care of you.”

“No, no!” Alexander said, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous!”

“No, I don’t think it is,” George countered. “You obviously need to choose between your work and your relationship, you haven’t managed to find a balance. In the past you’ve chosen your work, but now you’re going to choose me.”

“No I’m not!” Alexander said, voice rising. “Why would I do something like that? You know what my jobs means to me!”

“And I know what you mean to me!” George matched Alexander’s tone and pitch. “I’m not letting you ruin us because of a job you don’t need!”

“George, this is-”

“Perfect,” George said. He closed the distance between himself and Alexander and brought Alexander to his chest. “It’s going to be perfect.”


	68. If I find out you’re cheating on me, I’ll kill him/her.

George danced his fingers down Alexander’s bare chest. “I’ve heard some rumors,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow in the bed.

“Oh?” Alexander asked, blinking his eyes open. “What kind of rumors, my Lord?”

“The unpleasant kind,” George said, matter of fact.

Alexander tensed under George’s hand. “I don’t know what kind of rumors you might have heard.”

George pressed his hand flat against Alexander’s stomach and pressed down. “It was Tallmadge who told me.”

“The boy has it out for me, I swear to you,” Alexander shot back. “I’ve told you so many times, and yet you always favor him over me.”

“Is it not you in my bed?” George asked. “I find it quite obvious who I favor.”

“Fine,” Alexander huffed. “What has Tallmadge, the boy who has lusted after you for years and has hated me since I first stepped into the palace, have to say?”

George pinched the skin of Alexander’s stomach. “No need to be rude,” he admonished.

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying before,” George started. “Tallmadge was telling me he caught you and Lord Jefferson in a compromising position.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. “Never!” He said, disgusted by the very thought. “Jefferson has it out for you, and he’s never held any ounce of attraction for me, I assure you. He despises the very air I breath for the fact that I’ve tainted it.”

“Then what was it that Tallmadge saw?” George asked. “He told me he walked past an alcove and found him standing over you, arms bracketing your head.” George rolled on top of Alexander, hands falling into the position he described. “Just like I’ve done with you so many times. You’re irresistible, my boy. And I know how easy you melt into my touch…”

Alexander moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around George’s neck. He pulled back for air. “It’s only for you, I promise,” he said, breathless.

“It better be,” George said, tone darkening. “If I find out you’re cheating on me, if you’ve considered it, even for a second, I’ll kill them.” He looked down at Alexander for a second. “And I don’t imagine you’d like what I’d have in store for you either.”

Alexander hitched his leg around George’s and said, “how could I ever long for another now that I’ve had you?”

“How do you explain what Tallmadge has told me, then?” George asked, voice still holding the threatening tone.

“Jefferson likes to threaten me,” Alexander said, starting to trail his hand down George’s chest. “You’ve seen how he looks at me when I’m with you, surrounded by guests. You’ve heard what he says to me.” George gasped as Alexander’s hand ventured lower. “I’m sure it doesn’t take much to imagine what he’s like without your watchful eye.”

George settled his weight on top of Alexander, fitting perfectly into the space between Alexander’s spread thighs. “I suppose.”

Alexander pressed upward. “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you,” he offered. “Maybe I’ll never leave your side, I’ll keep myself pretty and ready and willing for whenever you have need of me.”

“Mmhmm.” George bent his head down and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin behind Alexander’s jaw. “That does sound like a dream.”

“And I live to make your dreams a reality, my Lord,” Alexander said. “Is that not what you told me when you first brought me here, in your bed? Only with you?”

“I believe it is,” George said.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”


	69. I’ve been fair to you so far, haven’t I?

George ran a hand down the side of Alexander’s face, fingers light and just brushing against the soft skin. 

“You’re beautiful,” Washington breathed, eyes retracing Alexander’s features. “You don’t even know.”

Alexander’s eyes glimmered in the candlelight. “You tell me everyday, sir.”

“I do, don’t I?” Washington smiled, and bent over to press a kiss first to Alexander’s face, on the tip of his nose, and then to his soft, pink lips. “You deserve to be reminded of it constantly.”

Alexander shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t do that.”

“But I must.” Washington pressed another kiss to Alexander’s lips. “I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I didn’t.”

“You’ve taken everything from me,” Alexander said, the words hollow with repetition.

“Shhhh,” Washington said. “Don’t say that. I’ve helped you, I’ve brought you where you belong.

“No.” Alexander’s voice was sharp despite the low volume. “You haven’t. I was making my name for myself, I was going to become something great.”

“You’re great here,” Washington reassured. He wrapped his arms around Alexander’s waist and brought the boy closer. “This is where you’re meant to be, you fit right here, in my arms. I didn’t know how much I needed you until you were here, pressed against my side.” Washington pushed the sheet to the side. “You’re so perfect for me, pliant, under me oh so lovely.”

Alexander shook his head. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “I wish I had never left, never came here.” Alexander barked a laugh. “I never thought I’d say that, you know, that I’d be better off on the island.”

“No, don’t say that.” Washington’s voice was soft, an attempt to comfort when Alexander wanted no such thing. “I’ve been fair to you so far, haven’t I? I’ve kept you warm and fed and comfortable? This is where you should be, where I want you to be. I woudn’t be half the man I am without you here.”

“But I don’t want to be here,” Alexander bit out.

“Yes you do,” Washington said. “You do, you just don’t know it yet.” He kissed Alexander again, the boy pushing up into the kiss just as Washington had taught him to. “I’ll teach you. You’ll learn, you’ll see.”

“This isn’t what I”m meant to be doing.”

Washington shook his head. “Yes it is,” he said. “Or else your head would be stuck on a pike along with all the others. Don’t you understand?”

Alexander shut his eyes, and Washington wiped away the single tear that fell.


	70. One day you'll become a fine ruler of this land.

Alexander trailed his hand down George’s bare chest. “We could run away, you know,” he whispered. “We could sneak off in the middle of the night, find some small town, assume false names and live our lives in peace.”

George chuckled and grabbed Alexander’s hand, thumb running over Alexander’s knuckles. “No,” he said. “We’re not going to sneak off in the middle of the night, my love.”

“Why not?” Alexander whined, pulling up into a sitting position, holding himself over George. 

George pressed a kiss to his hand. “Because it’s not our path.”

“But it could be,” Alexander protested.

“No.” George shook his head and pressed another kiss to Alexander’s hand. “One day you’ll be a fine ruler of this land, and I’ll be at your side as Commander of your army. Together we’ll choose and groom my replacement, and our lives will continue as we’ve been told they always would.”

“But-”

“No buts,” George said. He sat up and pressed a kiss to Alexander’s lips. “You’re the love of my life and I know what you’re capable of and destined for. I refuse to be the one to take that away from you.”

“The only think you’re taking away from me is a lifetime with you,” Alexander said.

“I’ll still be here.” George pressed another kiss to Alexander’s lips, reaching an arm around Alexander’s waist and pulling him down. “I’ll be at your side constantly, and we’ll go down as having such a strong bond that it’ll become a legend. Alexander the King and his trust Commander, such trust never to be seen again.”

“But that’s not how I want you, George,” Alex said. “I want you on my arm, I want you to spin me around the ballroom with all the court to see. I want them to know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

There was a sad look in George’s eyes. “In another lifetime, perhaps.”


	71. I won't give my heart to anyone else, I'm yours. I don't care how long it takes us to be together.

The General cleared his throat, and the young men in the tent with him all snapped to attention. “Gentlemen,” he said. “You’re all dismissed for the evening. Hamilton, stay back, I have on final piece of correspondence that needs drafting.”

“Of course, sir,” Alexander said, shuffling the papers in front of him into some kind of order. George had been tense all day, and he had a feeling what it was that the General needed.

The men trickled out, with Tilghman being the last to leave as he finished up a letter.

As soon as they were alone, Alexander turned in his chair to find George staring at him, dark eyes as intense as they ever were, but the furrowed brows hinting at everything swirling beneath the surface.

Alexander stood up and walked over, slow and sure. He stepped behind George’s chair and placed his hands on George’s shoulders, squeezing with a light pressure.

“Your Excellency.”

George relaxed into his chair, all stiffness melting out of him. He tilted his head back and looked up at Alex, brow still furrowed. “This war isn’t ending.”

Alexander bent his head down to press a kiss to George’s forehead. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t seem to be.”

“I want to run away sometimes,” George admitted. “Where we can be ourselves, together and alone. Far way from this bloody mess. I don’t know how much longer we can hold it together.”

“We can’t do that, love,” Alexander said. He pressed another kiss to George’s forehead. “You know that.”

George let out a sigh. “I know.”

“I can offer some small comfort though,” Alexander offered.

“Oh?”

Alexander smiled. “I won’t give my heart to anyone else,” he said. He straightened up and pulled George’s chair back. “I’m yours,” he said as he walked around so he was standing in the space between George’s legs. “I don’t care how long it takes for us to be together properly.” Alexander cupped George’s face between his hands. “Once this blasted war is over you can hire me on as some secretary and we can retire to that plantation of yours and live our days in peace.” He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to George’s lips. “How does that sound?”

George smiled up at him, soft enough to make Alexander’s heart melt, and said, “that sounds perfect.”


	72. You were never supposed to know.

George had told him he was free to look around, so Alex felt no guilt as he scanned the bookshelves. There were photos and souvenirs, plaques with George’s name engraved on them, a couple books, and even a ship in a bottle. 

He could hear the dogs padding around the kitchen, their nails clacking on the tiles. Alex let out a yawn as he raised his arms above his head in a stretch. It was late in the morning - the latest he had woken up since the morning after a memorable night in college, in fact. He was sore, but in the best way. George had certainly done a number on him, last night.

Alex trailed his fingers along the edge of a shelf as walked toward the kitchen, eyes focused on George bent over the stovetop. They usually ended up in some hotel room or one of their apartments in the city, George’s family estate he called home too far away from the city to be practical. The domesticity of it was…nice.

George looked up and smiled when he caught sight of Alex. “Good morning,” he said. “I was wondering when you’d come ambling in. I was thinking I might get to treat you to breakfast in bed.”

“Never,” Alex laughed. “Have you been awake long?”

George shrugged. “Not too bad. I had to get up to take the dogs out, Sweetlips gets particularly fussy.”

The dog looked up at its name, tail wagging as it looked between Alex and George. Alex snorted when George walked over to rub his hand against Sweetlips’ head. “You spoil them,” Alex said. “And you know it.”

“You say that as if they don’t deserve a little spoiling.”

Alex shook his head and moved to walk into the kitchen proper. His finger caught on something on the shelf, and a small statue went crashing to the floor. 

He jumped back with a wince, his eyes squeezed shut. A second later, Alex opened them the find the statue lying whole on the floor. He let out a breath. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Thank god it didn’t break.”

“Did it get you?” George asked, concerned.

Alex shook his head. “No, I’m fine,” he said as he bent down to pick it up. “The floor’s fine too, if you were worried.”

“Good to know,” George said.

Alex placed the statue back on the shelf, but a frame pressed against the back caught his eye. His hand reached out to it of its own accord and pulled it off the shelf. 

It was a large photo in a beautiful frame of black carved wood. Upon closer inspection, Alex saw it was a wedding photo, husband and wife shining brighter than the sun without a look toward whoever was taking the photo. He narrowed his eyes as something about the man’s face struck him as familiar. 

The frame fell out of his hand when it hit him, the sound of the shattering glass startling him.

“Alex?” George called out, rushing over. “Is everythi-oh.”

There was a tight feeling in Alex’s chest as he looked up at George. “You’re married?!” 

If George was divorced, he would have gotten rid of the photo. If he was a widower, the photo would have been displayed proudly, a memory of a bright time that George wasn’t ashamed of. But the frame had been hidden away, simply placed behind a statue. Enough not to catch his eye, easy enough to put back so nothing appeared amiss.

George sighed, looking down on the floor. “You were never supposed to know.”

Alex clenched his hands into fists. “I imagine I wasn’t,” he spat out. “I’m your mid-life crisis!”

George rushed forward and reached for one of Alex’s hands. “No!” he said. “Never!”

“Then explain this!” Alex pulled his hand away. “Are there others, then? Do you just trail and endless stream of young men through here? Play sugar daddy or whatever else they want until you’re done with them? Girls too, I presume.”

“No,” George said, shaking his head. He turned around, back to Alex. “There’s no one else.”

Alex could feel the tension sitting in his shoulders. “Except your wife.”

“Martha knows,” George offered, as if it made anything better.

Alex barked out a laugh, not at all kind sounding. “Oh,” he said. “So she knows, and you never thought to mention it to me!”

“She hyphenated,” George said, as if that had to do with anything. “On paper she’s Martha Dandridge-Washington.”

Alex’s mouth dropped open. “You’re married to Martha Dandridge?!”

George nodded.

“Holy shit,” Alex breathed out. “You’re her trophy husband!”

“She likes to say so, yes,” George said with a grin. He stepped forward again, slowly this time, and reached for Alex’s hand. Alex let him. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know, it’s for her sake.”

Alex raised a brow. “And she knows about this.”

“Yes.”

“And she’s okay with it?” Alex asked.

“Actually,” George started. “She’s expressed interest in wanting to meet you.”

“Oh my god,” Alex whispered. “Martha Dandridge wants to meet me?” 

George nodded, smile softening. 

“One of the justices of the supreme court wants to meet me,” Alex said, voice coming out at an embarrassingly high pitch. “Oh my god.”

George chuckled. “She’ll be extremely flattered you think so highly of her.”

Alex nodded.

“Now,” George said, looking back down at the floor. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”


	73. So is this all about getting attention?

George could have needed to be blind to miss the looks, the way that Alexander’s eyes scanned the room before he settled against George. The way his chin was tilted slightly upward, the curl to his lip - he was preening.

Something sharp ripped through George’s chest, but he pushed it down and kept the polite smile on his face. He should have known that was all this was. Alexander was too perfect, too brilliant to settle for this sort of life. Alexander always wanted more, and it was no different with him.

He kept his arm tight around Alexander’s waist, and after enough time had passed that attention had shifted elsewhere, George guided Alexander through the halls to a small unused room.

The look Alexander gave him as soon as he closed the door had a different kind of heat going through him. 

“Alexander,” he nearly growled out, backing Alexander up against the wall. Even when he was hurt, he couldn’t resist Alex. “I have a question for you, and I need you to be honest.”

Alexander pressed his hands flat to George’s chest. “Whatever you need, love.”

George swallowed. He balled his hands into fists at his sides. “Is this - all of this, us - just about getting attention?” he asked.

Alexander’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, no words coming out.

George’s chest tightened at the sight. Alexander was never speechless.

He took a step back, but Alexander’s hand shot out to grab at his tie before he could make it very far.

“How could you think that?” Alexander asked. “I love you.”

George swallowed. “The way you look-the way you looked- I just…what else am I supposed to think?!”

“What are you even talking about?!” Alexander asked, stepping forward. “I looked? Everyone looks! We’re not blind, George!”

“It was like you were showing off for someone!” He got out. He wasn’t one for words, not really. “I don’t want something like this! We’ve talked about this! I thought you knew!”

“Thought I knew what?!” Alexander asked. “What did you think I knew?”

George sighed. He raised a hand to his face, covering his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Alexander. “Thought you knew that I don’t want this to be a casual thing. You’re all I want.”

A hand went to his wrist and tugged it away from his face, and George looked down to find Alexander looking at him with wide eyes. “You’re all I want too, George,” Alexander whispered. “What brought this on?”

George looked away. “I don’t know,” he said.

He did. Age old insecurities he’d never managed to get rid of still clawed their way to the surface. And with Alexander - beautiful, clever Alexander - they were only fueled by the lingering looks of everyone around them.

Alexander pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Okay,” Alexander said. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes.” Alexander nodded. “Fine. I love you, you know.”

“I love you too,” George whispered. “More than you could ever know.”

Alexander smiled. “We’ll need to be talk about this, you know.”

George sighed. “I know.”

“Come on then,” Alexander said. He went up on his toes and pressed a gentle kiss to George’s lips. “We’ll talk about this later, and I’ll make sure that you know just how much I love you by the end of the night. Right now, we’re going to go tell the hostess that an emergency has come up and we need to go home immediately.”

“But-”

“Not buts,” Alexander interrupted. “Now come on, love. Unless you don’t want to?”

“I always want to,” George said.

Alexander smiled. “That’s what I thought.”


	74. H-How long have you been standing there?

It wasn’t easy, and it was time consuming, but it was always worth it. Each bit tighter he could get it than before was affirmation - for what, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, not really. Alexander exhaled a breath and pulled the laces out to the side with as much force as he could.

It wasn’t much. George could get it tighter. George would have him gasping for air as his waist was squeezed as small as it could go. Alexander inhaled, pleased when the breath was forced to go higher in his chest than before. He was making progress. 

About twenty minutes passed before he was satisfied, using each moment he could to relax and get the corset to cinch his waist even more. 

It was perfect. Alexander stared at his reflection in the mirror, admired how the warm lights of the bathroom vanity played on his skin, how the stiff material of the corset kept his back and shoulders straight. His head was held high, his hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of his head,

This was his, and his alone. There was always an urge to snap a quick picture, capture it on camera. But it wasn’t about how it made him look, not really. It was about how it made him feel. Smaller, more delicate. There was something holding him in place, grounding him and keeping him steady. Just like George did, but this was him alone. He did this. He could keep himself settled. He didn’t need George. 

Alexander took in another breath and smiled to himself.

He jerked when two large hands went to his waist, fingers meeting over the line of buttons down his front. 

“Shhh,” George whispered, pressing soft kisses down the line of his bare neck. “It’s just me.”

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Alexander gasped out. He could speak normally in this, had done more than one conference call while walking around the apartment with the vice around his rips. It felt better to do this though, and Alexander melted against George’s chest. 

Alexander might not need George, but god did Alexander want him. 

“You look beautiful like this,” George said, keeping his voice low. “What a lovely surprise to come home to.”

“You like it?” Alexander asked.

George squeezed around his waist, forcing a small sound out of him. Tighter. Perfect. 

“I do,” George said. “And I’d love to show you just how much.”


	75. I am from Mars

George supposed he should have known something was off about Alexander from the start - it was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, even in the way he looked. The sharpness in his gaze that was mirrored elsewhere in his futures wasn’t quite human, spoke of something beyond it. 

Perhaps that was what had drawn him in so closely in the first place, what had made him decide the risk was worth the reward. The risk had been so great, was still so great. But every touch had felt like the fire Alexander’s gaze had promised, and George became addicted faster than he thought possible. Every moment away from Alexander was a moment too long, every moment with him felt like it was sitting at a sort of precipice. It wasn’t right for George to feel so strongly, beyond what he had thought himself capable.

It made sense. Stories lasting thousands of years had to have some truth to them, something at their core that spoke to generation after generation. 

So many mortals had fallen for the chance to glimpse a God, and despite the Providence that George had claimed to believe in, he was no different from the rest of them after all.

It was likely he wasn’t even the first to fall under Alexander’s thrall, and that’s what hurt most of all.

George tightened his grip around the handle of the offered sword and looked up to meet Alexander’s eyes - the same eyes that had looked up at him with a passion-fueled intensity during their bouts of lovemaking now judged him. 

He sucked in a breath as the moments passed, not a single sound filling the air between them. 

“I am from Mars,” Alexander said, voice sounding so different from before. He was repeating himself, and George felt the truth sink deeper into his bones. Each time he heard it the words became more real, as if they were wrapping around him and claiming him the same way vines did buildings left abandoned. “And I was sent here, for you.”

George swallowed. “I am underserving.”

He had never considered the ancient gods as a reality, had treated them as stories ancient peoples told themselves to sleep at night despite the hardships they faced. 

Alexander tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps no man can truly be deserving of a blessing of Mars, but…”

A moment passed. 

George let his eyes fall shut and his head bow forward.

He felt the light press of familiar lips to his forehead. “But you are perhaps the closest anyone has come.”


	76. Say it again.

The instinctual fear coursing through him that Alexander had once mistaken for attraction was stronger than it had ever been as he stood in the middle of the General’s tent, the man taking his time and slowly circling him.

“Say it again,” Washington said, the words careful and measured. 

Alexander swallowed, the sound audible in the silence of the tent. He kept his lips pressed firmly together, refusing to speak the word a second time. It felt like a curse, echoing in his mind. It felt like it would never leave him, haunting him until his very last day upon this earth. 

“I said,” Washington breathed out, voice low but no less intimidating. “Say it again.”

He shook his head. He could feel sweat beading at his temples, and he hoped with everything in him that it was hidden by his errant curls. He couldn’t let Washington see how terrified he was. They both knew, but he couldn’t let Washington see. 

The General was magnetic, attracting attention like no man Alexander had ever seen before. It made sense, he supposed, that the General wasn’t really a man. It was a wonder no one else had thought too hard on it, that no one had ever been too curious as to how Washington to be the way he was. 

There weren’t words for it, not really. 

Alexander had known from the beginning that he was attracted to Washington. Wanting what he couldn’t have was something he had known as long as he could remember, and it was no different with men. And Washington was what every man wanted to be. 

“You’ve come here,” Washington said. “Having requested a private audience, to confront me about something so…”

“True.” Alexander couldn’t help himself, the word bursting out before he could think to stop it. “It’s true.”

“Preposterous,” Washington said, stopping in his step and staring Alexander down. “My time is valuable, Alexander.” How the General said his name sent shivers down his spine. “And you’ve wasted it by calling me an incubus, of all things.”

He couldn’t help the shiver from travelling down his spine as Washington took a step closer. A smell not unlike gunpowder filled his nose. Had it been anyone else, he would have dismissed it as filth. On Washington, it was intoxicating.

“Perhaps you’re simply searching for excuses,” Washington said. “You just want to have a reason for your…urges.”

The thought had crossed Alexander’s mind.

The sparks that shot through him when Washington traced a finger along his cheek abruptly pushed any and all doubt away. He’d felt attraction before, he knew what it was like to want someone so badly it hurt. This? This was different. This was an animal instinct telling him to run forward and to run back. This was of something just beyond reality, something that was whispered of in the dark corners and alleys Alexander had once called his home.

“If I were an incubus,” Washington whispered. “Which I’m not saying I am. Why would I want you? I am surrounded by virile men. Well-fed men, well-clothed. Men who have something to offer.”

The words stung, just as the General knew they would.

Alexander licked his lips. Had he been filled with less fear for his very existence and his possibility of a future, he might have noticed how Washington’s eyes tracked the motion. “Incubi don’t care for finery, they’re after the soul,” he said, voice much firmer than he had hoped. “And you, Sir, have told me on more than one occasion you admire my soul and for my spirit. I took it as a compliment, but it was an awfully odd comment to make.”

“Your soul is admirable,” Washington confirmed. “Shining so brightly compared to those around it.”

Washington’s hand dropped down to his neck. 

“And I’d so love to make it mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to come pester me at my [tumblr](http://ashilrak.tumblr.com)! :^))
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


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